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A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 





































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A CREATURE OF THE 

NIGHT 


AN ITALIAN ENIGMA 



FERGUS HUME 


ir 

AUTHOR OF 


“THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB,” “MADAME MIDAS,” 
“MISS MEPHISTOPHELES,” “MONSIEUR JUDAS” 


Yea, out of the womb of the night 
For evil a rod, 

With vampire wings plumed for a flight 
It cometh abroad, 

The mission to curse and to blight 
Permitted by God. 



JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 


I50 WORTH ST, COR. MISSION PLACE 




Copyright, 1891, 
nv 

UNITED STATE? BOOK COMPANY 


All rights reserved . 


TO 

GRAHAM PRICE, 


IN' REMEMBRANCE OF ITALIAN IDLINGS, 
SPRING, 1891. 




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CONTENTS 


I 

CHAPTER. PAGE. 

I. — The Ghoul i 

II. — A Boccaccian Adventure .... 9 

III. — The Feast of Ghosts 20 

IV. — The Angello Household .... 31 

V. — Lost 38 

VI. — A Haunted Palace 46 

VII. — At the Teatro Ezzelino 56 

VIII. — The Phantom of Lucrezia Borgia - - 65 

IX. — Fiore della Casa 73 

X. — A Voice in the Darkness .... 81 

XI. — The Marchese Beltrami - - - - 90 

XII. — Death in Life 97 

XIII. — “Down among the Dead Men” - - - 108 

XIV. — The New Lazarus 119 

XV.— Found 128 

XVI. — An Interrupted Honeymoon 136 

XVII. — Nemesis 143 

XVIII —A Last Word 152 
































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A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE GHOUL. 

I think it is Lord Beaconsfield who, in one of his 
brilliant stories, makes the clever observation that 
4 * adventures are to the adventurous,” and certainly 
he who seeks for adventures even in this prosaic 
nineteenth century will surely succeed in his quest. 
Fate leads him, chance guides him, luck assists him, 
and although the adventure supplied by this trinity of 
circumstances may be neither so dangerous nor so 
picturesque as in the time of Borgia or Lazun, still it 
will probably be interesting, which after all is some- 
thing to be grateful for in this eminently common- 
place age of facts and figures. Still, even he who 
seeks not to prove the truth of Disraeli’s aphorism, 
may, after the principle of Mahomet’s mountain, have 
the adventure come to him, without the trouble of 
looking for it, and this was my case at Verona in the 
summer of 18 — . 


6 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT . * 

The Cranstons were always a poor family, that is, 
as regards money, although they certainly could not 
complain of a lack of ancestors ; and when it came 
to my turn to represent the race, I found that my 
lately deceased father had left me comparatively noth- 
ing. Not having any fixed income, I therefore could 
not live without doing something to earn my bread ; 
and not having any business capacity, I foresaw fail- 
ure would be my lot in mercantile enterprise. I was 
not good-looking enough to inveigle a wealthy heir- 
ess into matrimony ; and as, after a survey of my 
possessions, I found I had nothing but a few hundred 
pounds and an excellent baritone voice, I made up 
my mind to use the former in cultivating the latter 
with a view to an operatic Career. 

Italy, living on the traditions Of the days of Rossini, 
of Donizetti and of Bellini, has still the reputation of 
possessing excellent singing-masters, so to Italy I 
went with a hopeful heart and a light purse, and 
established myself at Milan, where I took lessons, in 
singing, from Maestro Angello. Milan is a detestable 
city, hot and arid in summer, cold and humid in 
winter ; and as a year after I arrived in the land of 
song the end of spring was unusually disagreeable, 
Maestro Angello went to Verona for a change of air, 
and thither I followed him with no small pleasure at 
escaping from that dreary commercial capital of the 
north which has all the disagreeables of Italian life 
without any of the compensating advantages of 
romance and beauty. 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT . 


7 


But Verona ! ah, it was truly delightful, that sleepy 
town lying so peacefully on the banks of the rapid 
Adige, dreaming amid the riotous present of the splen- 
did past, when Can Grande held his brilliant court, 
and received as an honoured guest the great poet 
Dante, exiled by ungrateful Florence. The city of 
the gay rhymer Catullus, merry lover of Lesbia, who 
wept more tears over her sparrow than she did over 
her poet. The city of Romeo and Juliet, star-crossed 
lovers as they were, who were recompensed for their 
short, unhappy lives by gaining immortality from the 
pen of Shakespeare as types of eternal love and eter- 
nal constancy, for the encouragement of all succeed- 
ing youths and maidens of later generations. Yes, 
indeed, with all these memories, historical and poeti- 
cal, Verona was a pleasant place in which to idle 
away a summer, so I thanked the kind gods for my 
good fortune and enjoyed mysel£ 

Not that I was idle. By no means ! Maestro An- 
gello kept me hard at work at exercises and scales, 
so I studied industriously most of the day and wan- 
dered about most of the night in the soft, cool moon- 
light, when Verona looked much more romantic than 
in the garish blaze of the Italian sun. 

It was on one of these nights that an adventure 
happened to me, an adventure in which I was in- 
volved by the merest chance, although I confess that 
the vice of curiosity had a good deal to do with my 
entanglement therein. 

After dining at the hotel I went out for my cus- 


8 A p BE A TUBE OF THE NIGHT. 

tomary stroll, and having lighted a pipe as a preven- 
tive against the evil odours which seem inseparable 
from all Italian towns, I wandered on through the 
deserted streets in a listless, aimless fashion, con- 
trasting in my own mind the magnificent Verona 
of the past with the dismal Verona of the present. 
Taken up with these fantastic dreamings, I did not 
notice particularly where I was going, or how quickly 
the time was passing, until I found myself on the 
Ponte Aleardi— that iron bridge which spans the 
Adige— and heard the church bells chiming the hour 
of eleven. 

The moon was shining in the darkly blue sky amid 
the brilliant stars, and the leaden waters of the river 
shone like a band of steel in the pale, silvery light. 
On either side of the stream lowered dark masses 
of houses, from the windows of which gleamed 
here and there orange-coloured lights, while against 
the clear sky arose the tall steeples of the churches 
and the serrated outlines of full-foliaged trees. It 
was wonderfully beautiful, and the soft wind blow- 
ing through the night, rippled the swift waters to 
lines of ever-vanishing white; so leaning over the 
balustrade of the bridge, I dreamed and smoked, and 
smoked and dreamed, until the chiming of the half- 
hour warned me to return to my hotel. 

The night, however, was so beautiful and cool, 
that I could not but think of my hot sleeping-chamber 
with repugnance, and feeling disinclined for rest, I 
made up my mind to stroll onward for some time. 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. g 

I might have visited that fraudulent tomb of Juliet 
in the moonlight, but as I had already seen it by day, 
and could not feel enthusiastic about such a palpable 
deception, I refused to be further victimised, and 
crossed over the bridge to the left shore of the river. 

It was somewhat solitary , there, but I was not 
afraid of robbers, as I had but little money and no 
jewellery on me, and moreover I felt that, should 
occasion arise, I could use my fists sufficiently well 
to protect myself. Being thus at ease regarding my 
personal safety, I lighted a cigar which luckily hap- 
pened to be in my pocket, and wandered on until I 
came within sight, of the cemetery. 

Now I firmly believe .that every one has in him 
a vein of superstition which is developed in accor- 
dance with his surroundings. Place a* man at mid- 
day in a bustling city, and he scoffs at the idea of the 
supernatural ; but let him find himself at midnight 
alone on a solitary moor, with the shadows of moon- 
light on every side, and all his inherent superstition 
will start to life, peopling the surrounding solitude 
with unseen phantoms, more terrible than those of 
the Arabian Nights. Whether it was the time of night, 
or the proximity of the burial-ground, I do not know, 
but I felt my breast fill with vague fears, and has- 
tened to leave the uncanny spot as quickly as pos- 
sible. 

Fate, however, was against me, for in my blind 
speed, instead of crossing the bridge, I turned to the 
left, and unexpectedly found myself in the vicinity 


IO A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT . 

of another burial-ground. It was apparently much 
older than the one I had first seen, and there was a 
ruined wall around it, overtopped by tall, melancholy 
cypresses, looming black and funereal against the 
midnight sky. By this time I had recovered my 
nerve, and feeling somewhat ashamed of my former 
ignominious flight, I determined to punish myself by 
entering this antique abode of the dead, and examin- 
ing it thoroughly. 

With this idea I climbed over a portion of the 
broken wall, and in the shadow of the cypress-trees 
— shadow dense as the darkness of Egypt — I viewed 
the mournful scene before me, with mingled feelings 
of curiosity and dread. 

It was evidently very old, for even under the sof- 
tening light of the moon, the near tombs looked dis- 
coloured and timeworn. I saw the soft swell of the 
green turf, betokening graves, upon which grew the 
grass long and rank ; the milky gleam of slender 
white columns, broken at the top to typify the short 
lives of those who slept below ; and while yonder, 
in frowning grey stone, stood a solemn pyramid, 
built in imitation of those Egyptian monsters by the 
Nile, here, near at hand, a miniature temple of white 
marble, delicate and fragile in construction, hinted at 
the graceful architecture of Greece. Among these 
myriad tombs arose the slender, lance-shaped cy- 
press-trees, and their dark forms alternating with 
gleaming crosses of white marble, sombre pyramids, 
classic temples, and innumerable lines of tall col- 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


II 


umns, gave to this singular scene the aspect of a vis- 
ionary city of the dead, which had become visible to 
mortal eyes by the enchantments of the moon. 

Fascinated by the weirdness of this solitude, I let 
my cigar fall to the ground, and, hidden in the gloom 
of the cypress-trees, stared long and earnestly at this 
last abode of the old Veronese, when suddenly my 
hair bristled at the roots, a cold sweat broke out on 
my forehead, and a nervous shudder made my frame 
tremble as if with ague. 

The cause of this sudden fear was that, while 
wrapt in contemplation of this desolate necropolis, 
I heard a laugh, a low, wicked laugh, which seemed 
to come from the bowels of the earth. It was now 
nearly midnight, that hour when the dead are said 
to come forth and wander among the living, whose 
nightly sleep so strangely mocks the semblance of 
that still repose which chains these spectres to their 
tombs during the day. This idea pierced my brain 
like a knife, and for the moment, under the influence 
of the hour, the ghastly scene, the evil laugh, I be- 
lieved that I was about to witness this terrible resur- 
rection. I tried to turn and fly, but my limbs were 
paralyzed, and like a statue of stone I stood there 
rooted to the earth, feeling as if I were under the in- 
fluence of some horrible nightmare. 

Again I heard that wicked laugh, and this time it 
seemed to come from a tomb near me, a square block 
of gray stone, in the centre of which was an iron 
door, evidently the entrance to some vault. Beside 


12 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

this portal stood a life-sized figure in white marble of 
the Angel of Death, guarding the entrance with a 
flaming sword, the undulating blade of which seemed, 
to my startled eye, to waver against the blackness 
of the door. All round this strange tomb the grass 
grew long and thick, but, half veiled by the tangled 
herbage, star-shaped flowers glimmered in the moon- 
light. 

In another moment I would have fled, when for 
the third time I heard the evil laugh, the iron door of 
the tomb slowly opened, and a dark figure appeared 
on the threshold. The sight was so terrifying that I 
tried to mutter a prayer, feeling at the time as firm a 
belief in the visitation of the dead as any old woman ; 
but my throat was so dry that I could do nothing but 
remain silent in my hiding-place and stare at this 
ghoul, vampire, wraith, or whatever it was, leaving 
its tomb. 

To add to the horror of the situation, the moon had 
obscured herself behind a thick cloud, and there was 
now a deep darkness over all the graveyard, a dark- 
ness in which I could see nothing, and only hear the 
faint sigh of the wind, the rustle of the dry grasses, 
and the loud beating of my heart. 

Suddenly I felt that this creature of the night was 
passing near me, and in abject terror I shrank back 
against the rough trunk of the tree under which I 
was standing. I heard nothing in the still night, I 
saw nothing in the thick darkness ; but I felt it pass, 
by that sixth sense which is possessed by those who 


A CREATURE OF THE AUGHT. 13 

have highly strung nerves. In another moment the 
moon emerged from behind the clouds in all her 
splendour, and the burst of light gave me courage, for 
without considering the danger, either material or 
immaterial, I rushed quickly towards the broken wall, 
in which direction I judged this unseen ghoul had 
gone. 

The white moonlight flooded the whole space be- 
tween the burial-ground and the river, so that I saw 
clearly this figure walking quickly away in the direc- 
tion of the Ponte Aleardi. It was draped in a long 
black cloak with a monkish hood, and with its trail- 
ing, noiseless garments it seemed to glide along in the 
moonlight like a shadow. 

I had been so quick in my pursuit that it was only 
a little distance away, and as I peered cautiously over 
the broken wall it paused for a moment, and, throw- 
ing back its hood, looked towards the place where I 
was hiding. The space between us was so small 
and the moonlight so lustrous that I could see the 
face and head plainly rising from amid the dark 
drapery. 

The face was that of a woman, a beautiful woman 
with full crimson lips, large dark eyes, and great 
masses of reddish-coloured hair, for even in the cold 
moonlight I could see the warm, bronze glint of her 
tresses. One hand, slender and white, clasped the 
dark robe to her breast, and she looked towards 
the darkness of the broken wall as if she knew that 
some one had seen her terrible resurrection. On her 


14 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


delicate features there was a cold, stern look, like 
that of the ancient Medusa, and truly I felt as if I were 
turning into stotie before the cruel glare of those eyes 
which seemed to pierce the gloom in which I lay hid. 
It will be said that I describe somewhat minutely the 
appearance of this ghoul, seeing that I only beheld 
her for a moment in the pale, uncertain gleam of the 
moon ; but so close was she to the wall, and so 
highly strung were my nerves by the weirdness of 
the situation, that the sudden apparition of this crea- 
ture of the night photographed itself indelibly on my 
brain. 

At last she seemed satisfied with her gazing at the 
burial-ground from whence she had emerged, and, 
again drawing her hood over her face, glided rapidly 
away towards the Ponte Aleardi. Moved by curios- 
ity and supernatural fear, I determined to follow this 
spectre and find out where she was going, so without 
a moment’s hesitation I jumped down, and, keeping 
in the shadow of the wall, stole after her noiselessly 
and swiftly. 

Who was she? Some unhappy ghost of antique 
Verona, who had committed one of those terrible crimes 
invented by Lucrezia Borgia, and who was condemned 
by God to nightly revisit the scene of her former 
splendour as a punishment for her evil life ? Some 
ghoul who left the feast of the dead in order to prey 
upon the living ? Some vampire, lusting for blood, 
hastening towards the sleeping city to select her vic- 
ti.ii and drain him of his life-blood? All the wild. 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 15 

weird tales which I had heard recurred to my mem- 
ory ; all the terrible legends of Brittany, of the East, 
of Spain, and of the savage North. The memories of 
witches rifling the dead for their unholy needs, of 
wizards holding orgies in lonely churchyards, of magi- 
cians evoking the silent tenants of the grave by pow- 
erful spells, and of demons entering the bodies of the 
newly dead in order to roam the midnight world — all 
these gruesome ideas surged in my brain like the 
delirium of fever. 

My fear had passed away. I felt intensely curious 
to know the errand upon which this woman was 
bent, and, with all my faculties sharpened by danger, 
I sped swiftly after this flying spectre, which, look- 
ing neither to right nor left, glided rapidly onward 
towards the sleeping city of Verona. 


1 6 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


I <• V •’ /MlO U. ‘ ‘ -V 

CHAPTER II. 

A BOCCACCIAN ADVENTURE. 

Italian towns are very perplexing to strangers. Keep 
to the principal thoroughfares built in modern days, 
and you may have a reasonable hope of finding your 
way about ; but once get enmeshed in the crooked, 
narrow, winding streets of the period of the middle 
ages and you fire lost. The Italians, like Nature, 
delight in curves, and these narrow alleys, with cob- 
ble-stone pavements and no side-walks, dignified by 
the name of streets, twist in and out, and here and 
there, between forbidding houses, seven or eight 
stories in height, under heavy archways, which 
threaten to fall and crush the unwary stranger, and 
down steep flights of worn steps, until you become 
quite bewildered by the labyrinthian windings. Then 
these houses are built high in order to exclude the 
burning sun from the alleys, and & cold, humid feel- 
ing pervades the entire network of streets ; so that 
what with the gloom, the twistings, and the treach- 
erous pitfalls in dark corners, one feels like Orpheus 
going down to Hades in search of lost Eurydice. 

Having been warned of the difficulty of exploring 
these unknown depths, I had mostly confined my 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


1 7 


wanderings to the broad, modern streets and the 
populous piazzas ; therefore as long as my spectre 
guide kept to the Via Pallone, which begins at the 
Ponte Aleardi and ends at the Piazza Vittoria Ema- 
nuele, I felt quite safe. When, however, after leaving 
the Piazza she plunged into the narrow streets of the 
medieval period, I hesitated at first to follow her. I 
did not know my way, I was a stranger, and unarmed ; 
moreover, I knew not into what unknown dangers 
I might be led by this mysterious woman who had 
emerged from the graveyard. 

Curiosity, however, prevailed over fear, and as. at 
any moment I might lose sight of her, and thereby 
never discover if she were of this or the other world, 
I followed her boldly into the intense gloom into 
which she had vanished. My eyes could hardly 
pierce the darkness, and I feared I would not be able 
to keep her in sight, when luckily a portion of her 
cloak became disarranged, and I saw the vivid 
glimmer of a white dress, on which I kept my eyes 
fastened as a guiding star. 

Here and there in the houses lights were burning 
dimly, but the hour being late, no people were in the 
streets ; and as I followed this noiseless phantom along 
the solitary alleys, with the dark houses on either 
hand, and the white gleam of the moonlit sky above, 
I felt as if I were moving in a dream. 

Onward she glided, turning down here, climbing 
up there, until my feet were weary with walking; 
and besides, not knowing the way, I stumbled fre- 

2 


1 8 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

quently, which gave me many a bruise. The dark- 
ness, however, seemed no obstacle to the ghoul, who 
walked onward as rapidly as if she were still in the 
moonlight ; on the contrary, it was only by the great- 
est care that I could grope my way sufficiently quickly 
to keep her in sight, and prevent her from discovering 
me by my frequent stumbles. 

I was about to give up the chase in despair, when 
suddenly she led me out on to a small square, and 
hastening across it, disappeared into a palace at the 
further end. I remained in the alley until she vanished, 
as I feared if I followed her too closely she might 
perceive me in the moonlight. The place, which 
occupied the whole of one side of the square, was a 
richly decorated building, with a great arched portal 
in the centre ; but I had no time to examine it closely, 
for, fearful of losing my ghoul, I ran quickly across 
the square, came to the portal, and was stopped by 
an iron gate. 

It was one of those heavy iron gates common to 
Italian palaces, which stretching across from wall 
to wall, afford a view of the inner court, and are only 
open on festive occasions, or to admit vehicles. I 
knew that entrance was ordinarily afforded by a side 
door, and without doubt this was the way she had 
gone, unless indeed, being supernatural, she found 
bolts and bars no hindrance. Determined to pursue 
this strange adventure to the end, I sought the side 
door, but, on finding it, discovered to my vexation 
that it was locked. I could not enter that way, and 


19 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

the bars of the iron gate were so close together, that a 
man of my size could not possibly squeeze through 
them, so to all appearances the adventure, as far as I 
was concerned, was finished. 

Making one last effort, however, I felt all the iron 
bars singly, to see if any one was loose, in which case 
I could remove it and thus slip through ; when to my 
astonishment, on the left side of the gate furthest from 
the door, I found that one of the bars had been wrench- 
ed away. Without waiting to, consider this, which 
was curious to say the least of it, I concluded that the. 
woman, if indeed she were flesh and blood, had entered 
by this breach in the gate, so at once took advant- 
age of my discovery and soon found myself in the 
courtyard. The palace appeared to be quite deserted ) 
as the windows were all broken, and the ironwork of 
the balconies which ran round the four sides of the 
courtyard, at different heights, was twisted out of all 
shape; besides which, the mosaic pavement upon 
which I stood was smashed in several places, and 
grass grew between the interstices. I could see all 
this plainly in the moonlight, and, moreover, as a 
great door at the end of the courtyard opposite the 
iron gate was slightly ajar, while all the other smaller 
doors were closed, I came to the conclusion that the 
ghoul had gone in there. My conjecture proved cor- 
rect, for as, hiding in the shadow, I peered into the 
gloom of the building, I saw the sudden flare of a 
torch which the woman had just fired, and with this 
in her hand she began to climb up a flight of steps — 


20 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

at least, so I judged from seeing the torch rise 
higher and higher in the darkness until it vanished 
altogether. 

The lightning of the torch made me believe that I 
had to do with flesh and blood, as certainly no phan- 
tom would use natural ways and means in preference 
to supernatural ; so directly the light disappeared, 
I stole cautiously across what appeared to be a large 
hall, grasping my walking-stick tightly in case of any 
surprise. I could not disguise from myself that my 
curiosity had led me into a very perilous adventure, but, 
as since the affair of the torch I had quite recovered 
my nerve, I went resolutely forward, and, feeling my 
way carefully in the dark, climbed up the staircase. 

At the first turning of the ascent all was still in 
darkness, but on taking the second turning I saw the 
torch gleaming like a fierce yellow star in the gloom 
of a long corridor. Luckily I had very light, thin 
shoes on, and trod cautiously, otherwise the echo of 
my footsteps would most surely have betrayed me to 
the mysterious torch-bearer. The palace was cer- 
tainly not inhabited, as I heard nothing to support 
such a belief ; but as I hastened along the wide corri- 
dor, through the windows on the left side streamed 
the pale moonlight, and I saw that the glass in these 
windows was painted to represent coats-of-arms, so 
without doubt this deserted mansion had once been 
the residence of some great Veronese noble. 

But what was the ghoul doing here ? Why had she 
come from her vault in the churchyard to this neglected 


21 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

habitation ? Again the fear seized me that this creature 
was a phantom of some splendid lady of the middle 
ages, come to revisit the scenes or her antique magni- 
ficence* The cold air as I passed along seemed.full of 
the strange perfume of sandalwood, and this sensuous 
odour in conjunction with the flitting torch, the coloured 
shadows cast on the floor by the moonlight streaming 
in through the painted windows, and the state of ner- 
vous excitement in which I was, all made me feel like 
the hero of one of those amorous adventures which 
are described in the glowing pages of Boccaccio. 

. Once more the torch disappeared round a corner to 
the left, but in a moment. I had it again in sight; another 
flight of shallow steps, another short corridor, and at 
the end an arched door, through which the phantom 
disappeared. At the door I paused to consider what 
I should do next, as, if I rashly entered the room, I 
might pay for my temerity with my life ; so I stood 
irresolutely at the half-open door, ready to fly at the 
least sign of danger. 

As I stood at the door in the intense gloom, for there 
were no windows in this corridor, I saw a faint glim- 
mer of light in the room within, and this light remain- 
ing stationary for some considerable timej I judged that 
the lady of the sepulchre had left the torch there and 
retired into some inner chamber. Resolving, there- 
fore, to risk the attempt, I peered into the apartment, 
and saw the torch stuck in a socket made in a small 
table in the centre of this small hall, which was hung 
with ancient tapestry. At the end opposite the portal 


2 2 .; .v 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


through which I was looking, was an opening draped 
with heavy red curtains embroidered with gold, for 
every now and then as they stirred I saw the dull 
glitter of the tarnished metal. 

Determined not to be discovered, I thought it a 
capital plan to hide between the tapestry and the wall, 
so as to secure good concealment, and then steal 
along the walls until I arrived at the curtained open- 
ing, through which I hoped to be able to see into the 
room beyond. Just as I made up my mind to put 
this plan into practice, the torch, which had been 
burning very low, flickered and went out, so that the 
hall was in complete darkness. In the gloom, how- 
ever. rays of bright light shone through the em- 
broidered curtains. I heard the murmur of voices, 
and then the sharp, clear notes of a mandolin. The 
ghoul evidently had some one with her, perhaps the 
unfortunate individual whom she proposed to devour ; 
so as no time was to be lost, I slipped into the apartment, 
enconced myself between the tapestry and the wall 
on the left of the door, and prepared to creep along, 
if possible, to the curtained archway. While I paused 
a moment to regain breath and courage, for certainly 
the situation was not without an element of danger, 
the metallic notes of the mandolin ceased and a mans 
voice began singing some Italian song, but one with 
which, in spite of my knowledge of music, I was not 
acquainted. It was a slow and sensuous melody of 
passionate sweetness with an undercurrent of sadness, 
and the singer had a remarkably fine tenor voice, 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


23 

sounding full and rich even through the heavy cur- 
tains, which prevented me hearing the words clearly. 
Evidently this was an amorous rendezvous, but why 
was it taking place in this deserted palace, and why 
had the lady come from a vault in a graveyard to 
keep it ? 

All at once the singer stopped abruptly in the middle 
of a phrase, I heard the mandolin suddenly smashing 
on the marble floor, and then sounded the low, wicked 
laugh I had first heard at the burial-ground. Filled 
with anxiety to learn the meaning of all these strange 
events, I glided rapidly along the wall, and speedily 
arrived at the curtained opening. Being afraid to pull 
it to one side lest I should be discovered, I took out 
my penknife and made a slit in the heavy embroidery ; 
then, looking through the opening thus obtained, I 
beheld a most extraordinary spectacle. 

A circular chamber, not very large, but very lofty, 
surrounded by eight half-pillars of veined white marble 
built into the wall, and supporting a domed ceiling 
richly painted with garlands of flowers, from amid 
which peered the smiling faces of beautiful women. 
Between these noble pillars hung voluminous draperies 
of darkly red velvet, all magnificently embroidered 
with fantastic designs in tarnished gold thread, but, 
curiously enough, the apartment had no windows, 
neither in the ceiling nor at the sides, so whatever 
took place within could not be seen save through the 
curtained archway. 

In the centre of the white marble floor stood a low, 


24 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT 


heavy table, richly gilt, and covered with the remains 
of a splendid feast. The gorgeousness of the vessels 
thereon was truly marvellous, consisting, as they did, 
of elaborately chased silver epergnes filled with bril- 
liantly-coloured fruits ; many-branched candelabra of 
gold, bearing slender wax tapers to illuminate the 
apartment ; gracefully carved jugs, of wonderful de- 
signs which must have emanated from the brains of 
Cellini himself ; and strangely shaped antique goblets 
which put me in mind of the sacramental cups used 
in Italian churches at the celebration of the mass. The 
voluptuous scent of sandalwood pervaded the heavy 
atmosphere of the chamber ; gold and silver and crys- 
tal shone in the mellow light of the myriad tapers, 
and the whole appearance of this sensuous banquet 
was like those of former ages presided over by Can 
Grande or splendour-loving Caesar Borgia. I thought 
I was in dreamland, the more so when I saw the 
bizarre costumes worn by the two occupants of the 
room. 

One was the lady I had followed from the grave- 
yard, who, having thrown off her heavy cloak, now 
appeared in a white silk dress of antique cut, richly 
embroidered with gold. Round her slender neck she 
wore an old-fashioned necklace of superb rubies, set 
in silver, which flashed forth crimson flame with every 
heave of her snowy bosom, while strings of soft-shin- 
ing pearls were twisted in her magnificent red hair ; 
an Eastern girdle of gold fretwork encircled her waist, 
and broad gold bracelets radiant with gems clasped 


A CEE A TURK OF THE NIGHT* i - 

her milk-white arms. The profusion of jewels she 
wore scintillated, with her every motion, throwing out 
sparks of many-coloured fire, and she looked like one 
of those proud- dames of Venice who smile so haugh- 
tily in the pictures of Titian. But her face ! Oh, 
heavens 1 what a beautiful, cruel, relentless face !— 
the tigerish look in the splendid eyes, the wicked 
laugh of the full red lips ! Was she truly a woman, 
or some , fiend sent upon earth to lure men to hell by 
the fascination of her evil beauty ? 

If the woman was curiously dressed for modern 
days, her companion, a handsome young man of seven- 
and-twenty was still more so, as he wore a doublet 
of pale-blue velvet slashed with white Satin and 
diapered with gold embroidery ; a small ruff round his 
neck ; high riding-boots of black leather, reaching to 
the thigh, with gilt spurs ; and a short mantle of azure 
silk, which drooped gracefully from his shoulders. 
He had no rapier, but at his girdle hung a small 
poniard, the handle of which was thickly encrusted 
with gems, and on the velvet-covered chair beside 
him lay a large cloak and a small mask of black vel- 
vet. I rubbed my eyes and pinched myself to see if 
I were really awake, for the whole fantastic scene 
looked like one of those which had doubtless taken 
place at Verona in the opulent days of her splen- 
dour. . 

“I am mad, asleep, or intoxicated/’ I thought, as I 
looked at this Boccaccian feast, at these Boccaccian 
lovers. ‘ ‘ What does it mean ? This must be the phan- 


2 6 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 

tom of Lucrezia Borgia, who has risen from the tomb 
to meet one of her dead lovers and renew for a time 
the joys of the past. Oh! I am mad or asleep. I will 
wake up and find this is all a dream— some fantasy 
of the brain created by the delirium of fever!” 

Between the lovers lay the broken mandolin, and 
the woman, pointing to this, talked volubly while the 
young man stood listening with a scornful smile on 
his lips. Not being a very good Italian scholar, I 
could not follow all this rapid talk without great diffi- 
culty, but from what I could gather it seemed to me 
that the phantom of Lucrezia Borgia was accusing her 
lover of infidelity. At length, when she seemed ex- 
hausted, he caught up his mantle and mask as if about 
to go, but she fell prostrate before him, and seemed 
to implore him to stay. He shook his head, and then 
springing to her feet in anger, she snatched the poniard 
from his belt and tried to strike him. The young man 
warded off the thrust with his left arm, round which 
was wrapped his heavy black cloak, whereupon she 
let the dagger fall and began to beseech him again. 
I could not understand the meaning of this terrible 
dumb-show any more than I could the curious dresses, 
the antique chamber or the deserted palace. It was 
the phantasmagoria of a dream seen by the soft light of 
the tapers, and my brain being quite upset by the 
strange events of the night, I entirely forgot the nine- 
teenth century, and seemed to live, to breathe, to 
tremble, on the threshold of one of those fatal cham- 
bers wherein the Medici, the Scaligers and the Borgias 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT, 27 

feasted, loved, betrayed, and slew their friends, their 
lovers, and their enemies. 

The woman, evidently seeing it was useless, stopped 
beseeching the young man, upon, which he picked 
up his dagger, and throwing; the fold of his cloak over 
his right shoulder, advanced towards the door without 
saying good-bye to the lady. I withdrew quickly, 
fearful of discovery, when, just as his hand was on 
the curtains, her voice sounded once more y slow and 
deliberate, so that I was able to understand what she 
said : — 

“ So you leave me for ever ? ” 

“ Yes ! ” he replied with the same deliberation, “for 
ever.” 

“Then before you go, let me drink to your future 
happiness.” 

‘ * With pleasure, madame. ” 

He appeared to hesitate at first, but after saying 
these words I heard him move away from the curtain, 
upon which I looked again and saw him standing by 
the chair, while the woman, with her face turned 
away, was filling a goblet with wine. Her back was 
towards him, so that he could not see what she was 
doing, but I could perceive her least action. She filled 
two goblets with wine, then taking something from 
her breast, dropped it into one of them, and, turning 
round with a smile, presented the cup to him. It 
flashed across me that she was trying to poison her 
lover, and I would have called out to warn him, 
but the extreme peril of my position, the terrible 


28 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT. 


appearance of this woman, and the uselessness of 
interference kept me silent during this supreme 
moment. 

The young man took the cup she gave him, and 
drained it with a bow, while she simply touched her 
lips with the other goblet, and smiled again. 

“To your future happiness/' she said in a significant 
voice, and set the goblet down on the table. 

They talked together after this reconciliation for 
some time and seemed better friends than before, but 
I saw that the woman kept furtively glancing at his 
face with a wicked smile on her lips. At length he 
handed her the mask, which evidently did not belong 
to him, and, after kissing her hand, was about to turn 
in the direction of the archway, when suddenly he 
grew pale, put his hand to his head quickly, and 
grasped the chair near which he stood to keep himself 
from falling. 

“ Why, what is this ? ” he cried in a hoarse, strained 
voice. “ Gran Dio ! what does it me&n ? ” 

She bent forward with a wicked laugh, and the rubies 
flashed forth venomous red flame in the soft light. 

“ It means that you have betrayed me and I have 
revenged myself ! ” 

He looked at her with a dazed expression, made a 
step forward as if to kill this terrible woman, who, 
dangling the mask in her hand, stood mocking at his 
agony with a cruel smile, then suddenly flung up his 
hands with a wild cry of despair and fell at her feet — 
dead. 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


2 9 

“ Fool ! ” she said, without displaying the least sign 
of emotion. ‘ ‘ Fool ! ” 

I wished to rush forward and denounce the demon 
in womans shape who had so vilely perpetrated this 
cold-blooded murder, but, overcome with horror, I 
reeled away from the curtain and fell — fell into the 
arms of some one who held me with a powerful grip. 
I gasped with alarm and was about to call out, when 
I felt a handkerchief dashed suddenly over my face 
wet with some liquid. In spite of my struggles it was 
held firmly there, and I gradually felt my senses leave 
me until I knew no more. 

****** 

When I came to myself it was early morning, and. 
I was seated on a stone bench in the Piazza Vittoria 
Emanuele, surrounded by a group of curious on- 
lookers. 

“ Where am I ? ” I asked in English. 

No one answered, and I repeated the question in 
Italian, upon which a fat woman spoke up, — 

“ Signor, you are in the Piazza Vittoria ! ” she said 
in a husky voice; “we found you here when we 
came first.” 

“But the palace, the woman, the poison !” I said 
stupidly, for my head was aching terribly. 

The peasants looked at one another with a mean- 
ing smile and shook their heads. I saw that they 
thought I had been drinking, so, giving a piece of 
money to the fat woman who had spoken, I took my 
way at once to my hotel, which I reached in a state 
of bewilderment better imagined than described. 


3 o 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE FEAST OF GHOSTS. 

Was it a dream? Common-sense said “Yes.” My 
bruises said “No ! ” But certainly the whole affair 
was most remarkable, and quite out of the ordinary 
kind of events which take place in this prosaic nine- 
teenth century. We have done with those romantic 
episodes in which the heroes and heroines of Boccaccio, 
Le Sage and M. Dumas pere take part, and in the 
searching light of the Press lantern, which is nowa- 
days turned on all things and on all men, it is im- 
possible to encounter those strange events of the 
middle ages. Judging from my experiences of the 
previous night I had been entangled in a terrible 
intrigue, which might have taken place under Henri 
Trois or Lorenzo di Medici, yet, as the past can never 
become the present, the whole affair was a manifest 
anachronism. I was inclined to think that I had 
been the sport of some Italian Puck, but as there are 
no fairies nowadays, such an idea was absurd, so the 
only feasible explanation of the bizarre occurrence 
was that I had been dreaming. 

I had certainly gone to the old burial-ground and 
had seen the phantom of Lucrezia Borgia emerge 


A CREA TURE OF THE HI GUT. 3 1 

from an old Veronese tomb, and as certainly I had 
followed her to the Piazza Vittoria Emanuele, but 
here, without doubt, reality ended and fiction began. 
Evidently I had sat down upon the stone bench 
where I was discovered by the peasants, and had there 
fallen asleep to undergo this extravagant adventure 
in a vision of the night. In sleep I had dreamed a 
dream after the fashion of the Athenian lovers in 
Shakespeare’s comedy, and the antique chamb&r, 
the quaint costumes, and the phantom characters 
had been idle visions of the brain, which had played 
their several parts in this mediaeval phantasmagoria. 

To put entirely to one side the impossibility of liv- 
ing people dressing themselves in rococo costumes 
in order to play a fantastic comedy-tragedy in a de- 
serted place, if I had really seen all I imagined, how 
did I find myself in the Piazza Vittoria Emanuele at 
daybreak ? The visionary pursuit of the lady of the 
sepulchre had been a long one, and I certainly could 
not have walked back such a distance to the Piazza 
without knowing something about it. But memory 
ceased at my fainting at the door of the fatal chamber, 
and revived on my finding myself on the stone bench 
in the Piazza; therefore, granting that the whole 
adventure had actually occurred, how had I been 
taken from the deserted palace to the Piazza ? 

Idling over my midday meal at the Hotel d’Este, I 
thought of the extraordinary series of events in which 
I had taken part, and kept puzzling my brain as to 
whether they had really occurred or whether I had 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


32 

been the victim of a grotesque nightmare. I had 
received a letter from the Maestro Angello, saying he 
could not give me my usual lesson, therefore I deter- 
mined to devote the whole day, which was thus at 
my disposal, to finding out the truth or falsehood of 
this mysterious adventure. 

My bruises were very painful, but I doctored my- 
self as I best could, so that without much difficulty 
I was able to walk. Doubtless I had received these 
bruises whilst pursuing the unknown from the grave- 
yard to the Piazza Vittoria Emanuele, and thus far I 
was certain of the actuality of my adventure. With 
this idea in my head, I made up my mind to go to 
the old graveyard and discover, if possible, who 
was buried in the tomb from which the ghoul had 
emerged. By finding out the name I might possibly 
ascertain that of the lady, as there must certainly 
have been some connection between her and the 
person buried in the mysterious vault. No sooner 
had I thus sketched out my plain of action than I 
put it at once into execution, and as I found some 
difficulty in walking, I sent for Peppino's fiacre in 
order to drive to the cemetery. 

Peppino was a merry little Florentine, whose 
services I employed for two reasons, one being that 
he spoke excellent Italian, so that I understood him 
easier than I did the general run of these Northern 
Italians, who usually gabble a vile patois which no 
Englishman can understand without constant prac- 
tice, and my acquaintance with the modem Latin 


33 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 

tongue was not sufficient to warrant my indulging in 
liberties with it ; the other reason was that Peppino, 
having lived a long time in Verona, knew the town 
thoroughly, and would be able to tell me better than 
any one if such a deserted palace as I had dreamed 
of really existed ; besides which, he was also a very 
amusing companion. 

The fiacre duly arrived, and on going outside I 
found Peppino grinning like, a small black monkey 
as he held the door open for me to enter. 

“ Dio ! ” said Peppino in a commiserating tone, 
seeing how I leaned on my stick, “is the Signor 
not well ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! quite well, Peppino, only I fell yester- 
day and hurt myself, so you see I have to get you 
to drive me to-day.” 

“ Bene !” replied Peppino philosophically, mount- 
ing the box, “the ill of one is the good of another 
To where, Signore ? ” 

“ To the cemetery near the Porto Vittoria.” 

“The new or the old one, Signore ? ” 

“ The old cemetery ! ” 

Peppino cast a queer look at me over his shoulder, 
and, muttering something about the “ mad English,” 
drove away towards the Via Pallone. As he was on 
the box-seat, and the fiacre made a good deal of 
noise going over the rugged stone pavement, in 
addition to the incessant jingling of the bells, I could 
not question him as I desired to do, so, making up 
my mind to wait until I arrived at the graveyard, I 
3 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


34 

leaned back in the. carriage and gave myself up to 
my own thoughts. 

Then a curious thing occurred which made me cer- 
tain that the events of the previous night had actually 
taken place, for without the least effort of memory 
on my part the strange melody sung by the young 
man in the palace came into my head. I could 
not possibly have dreamed that, and I could not pos- 
sibly have composed the air, so I concluded that I 
had really heard the song, and, having an excellent 
musical ear, it had impressed itself on my memory. 
Of course I did not recollect the words, but only the 
tune, and thinking it might prove useful as a link in 
the chain of circumstances, I hummed it over twice 
or thrice so as to keep it in my mind. 

I therefore concluded from this piece of evidence 
that I had actually been to the deserted palace and 
witnessed that Strange feast, but if so, how had I 
found myself at dawn in the Piazza Vittoria Eman- 
uele? It was no use puzzling my brains any more 
over this mysterious affair, so the wisest plan would 
be to wait until I found out the name on the tomb, 
and then perhaps Peppino would be able to tell me 
about the palace, in which case, with these two facts 
to go on, I might hope to discover the meaning of 
these extraordinary events. 

Meanwhile the fiacre h»d left the Via Pallone, 
crossed over the Ponte Aleardi, and was now being 
driven rapidly along the left bank of. the Adige, past 
the Campo Marzo. We speedily arrived at the Old 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


35 

burial-ground, and Peppino, stopping his horse 
near the gate, assisted me to alight from the car- 
riage. 

\ 4f Peppino,” I said, when this was done, “tie your 
horse up somewhere and come with me into the cem- 
etery. ” 

“Diamine ! ” replied Peppino, crossing himself with 
superstitious reverence. “ I like not these fields of 
the dead. ” • 

V.Ifs broad daylight, you coward ; besides, I wish 
you to tell me about the tombs,” 

“But why does not the Signor go to the beautiful 
new cemetery ? ” said Peppino, leading his horse to 
the wall and fastening him to a heavy stone ; “ the 
statues there are beautiful. This is old, very old ; 
no one is buried here now. ” 

“When. was the last person buried, Peppino ? " 

“ Dio ! I don't know — eh, oh, yes, Signore, last year 
an illustrious was buried in his own vault; but he was 
mad. Ecco!” 

“ Why did he have a vault built in such an old 
cemetery ? ” 

“ Oh, the vault was old — as old as the Trezza. All 
the signori of his family had been buried there for 
many days.” 

“Since the Republic ? ” 

“Dio ! yes, and before*?' 

“ What is the name of this family ? ” 

“I don't know, Signore, I forget ! ” 

“ Well, come along, Peppino. As you know so 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT 


36 

much about one tomb, you will probably know some- 
thing about another.” 

“Command me, Illustrious.” 

I did not enter the burial-ground by the gate, as I 
wanted to go the same way as on the previous night, 
in order to be certain of finding the tomb I was in 
search of, so, with some little difficulty, and the help 
of Peppino, I managed to climb over the broken wall, 
and soon found myself in my old hiding-place. Pep- 
pino looked at me with considerable curiosity, as 
he could not conceive my object in coming to this 
dreary locality ; but ultimately, shrugging his shoul- 
ders, he put it down to a freak on the part of a mad 
Englishman, and waited for me to speak. 

The tomb looked scarcely less forbidding and 
gloomy in the daytime than it did at night, with its 
massive-looking architecture, and the stern-faced 
angel guarding the iron door. Advancing through 
the long grass which grew all round it, I looked every 
where for a name, but could find none, then tried 
to open the iron door, to the great dismay of Pep- 
pino. 

“Signore,” he said in a faltering voice, “do not let 
out the ghosts.” 

“ There are no ghosts here, Peppino. They have 
all departed,” I replied, finding the door locked. 

“ Dio ! I’m not so sure of that, Illustrious. Many 
dead are in there.” 

“ Oh, they’ve been dead so long that their ghosts 
must have grown weary of this gloomy sepulchre. ’ 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


37 

“ Yes, Signore, but the ghost of the mad Count buried 
last year ! ” 

“ Oh ! ” I cried with lively curiosity, “is this the 
vault where he was buried ? ” 

“Yes, Illustrious ! ” 

“ And the name, Peppino? What was his name ? ” 

The little Italian looked perplexed, as he could not 
uuderstand the interest I took in this sepulchre ; still, 
seeing I was in earnest, he tried to think of the name, 
but evidently could not recall it. 

“Cospetto ! Signore, I have the memory of Beppo, 
who forgot the mother who bore him ; but the name 
will be here, Illustrious, for certain. ” 

‘<See if you can find it, Peppino,” I replied, sitting 
down on a stone near the iron door. “ I am anxious 
to know to whom this tomb belongs.” 

Peppino, being more conversant with Italian tombs 
than myself, went to look for the name, and in a won- 
derfully short space of time came back with a satis- 
fied smile on his face. 

“ Signore, the tomb is that of the Morone.” 

“The Morone?” 

“ Yes, Signore, they were a great family of Verona, 
as great as the cursed Medici of my beautiful Flor- 
ence.” 

“And this Count, who died last year, was their 
descendant ? ” 

“Dio! Illustrious, he was the last of them. No 
father, no brother, no child. He was the last. 
Basta, basta ! ” 


38 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

41 Had he a wife ?” I asked, thinking of the woman 
who had emerged from this tomb. 

“Yes, Signore, a beautiful wife, but when he died 
she left Verona for Rome I heard. She is not now 
here.” 

Well, I had found out the name of the family buried 
in the tomb, and that the wife was the sole repre- 
sentative of the race, so I naturally thought she was 
the only person who would have been able to enter 
the tomb ; although why she did so, unless it was to 
pray beside the corpse of her late husband, I could 
not understand. Besides, Peppino, who was one of 
the greatest gossips in the town, said she had left 
Verona, so perhaps the midnight visitor was not the 
Contessa Morone at all. 

“Were the Count and Countess an attached couple, 
Peppino ? ” v 

The Italian shrugged his shoulders. 

“Dio ! I know not indeed,” he replied carelessly; 
“ the Signor Conte was certainly mad. I saw him at 
times, and he had the evil eye. Diamine ! often have 
I made horns for that eye, Illustrious. ” 

“And the Countess, Peppino ? Have you ever seen 
the Countess ? ” 

“ No, Signore ! The Conte let her not out. Ah ! 
he was jealous, that madman. He was old and the 
Signora was young. Per Bacco ! the . husband was 
afraid of the handsome officers. Ecco ! ” . . 

A mad and jealous husband, old, too, into the bar- 
gain. With such a trinity of imperfections a young 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


39 

and beautiful woman could hardly be much in love 
with him, and, a year after his death, would certainly 
not have taken the trouble to pray at his tomb. No ! 
the unknown lady could not possibly have been the 
Contessa. Who, then was this mysterious visitant ? 
I had now quite got over my fancy that she was a 
spectre, and felt profoundly curious to find out who 
she was, and why she had come to this ancient burial- 
place at midnight. 

‘ ‘ Is there a Palazzo Morone, Peppino ? ” 

Peppino changed colour. 

“What do you know of the Palazzo Morone, 
Signore ? ” 

“Oh, there is one then !” 

“Yes, Illustrious ! It is haunted ! ” 

“ Haunted ! Nonsense ! " 

1 ‘ Dio ! Signore, I speak the truth. No one has lived 
there for the last two hundred years. It is shut up 
for the rats and the owls and the spectres of the 
tomb. ” 

“What tomb— this one ? ” 

“Ah, Signore, do not jest, I pray you, or the illus- 
tious Signori Morone will hear us. ” 

Peppino looked so serious that I forebore to smile 
at this absurdity, lest I should offend his pride and 
thus lose the story. 

“Well, Peppino, tell me all about this haunted 
palace. ” 

“ Not here, Signore, I am afraid 1 ” 

“Then help me back to the carriage.” 


40 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


He obeyed with great alacrity, and, when I was 
once more in the fiacre, prepared to loosen his horse. 

“No, no! Peppino,” I said, smiling; “the ghosts 
can’t hear us here, so tell me the story of the Morone.” 

Peppino cast a doubtful glance in the direction of 
the burial-ground, and then, seating himself on the 
step of the carriage, began his story. His Italian, 
as I have said before, was very good, so, making 
him speak slowly, I was easily able to understand 
the strange legend he related. 

“Signore,” he began, with a solemn look on his 
usually merry face, “ the Morone were very famous 
in Verona four hundred years ago. Dio ! they fought 
with the Scaligers, and afterwards with the Visconti. 
They were Podestas of the city before the Della Scala, 
and several of them were great Cardinals. One would 
have been his Holiness himself, but the Borgia asked 
him to supper and he died of their poison. About two 
hundred years ago Mastino Morone wedded the 
Donna Renata della Moneta, who was said to have 
been descended on the wrong side from Donna Lu- 
crezia herself.” 

“You mean that this Renata was an illegitimate 
descendant of Lucrezia Borgia ? ” 

“Yes, Signore. Ah ! she was a devil of a woman, 
that Madonna Lucrezia. Ebbene ! Signore. This 
Donna Renata wedded with Count Mastino Morone, 
and a pleasant life she led him, for she loved all other 
men but him. Cospetto ! he would have strangled 
her, but he was afraid of her many lovers. There 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


41 


was a room in the Palazzo Morone, without any 
windows, where Donna Renata supped with those 
she favoured. ” 

“And the room is there still? ” I said, thinking of 
that mysterious chamber. 

“ Of a surety, Signore ! It is haunted by the ghost 
of the Marchese Tisio ! ” 

“Who was he?” 

“Signore, he was the last lover of Donna Renata, 
whom she killed with the Borgia poison because he 
was faithless. Eh ! it is true, Illustrious. She found 
out by her spies that the Marchese loved another, so 
she asked him to a last feast in her room, and when 
he was going she gave him a cup of wine. Dio ! he 
drank it, the poor young man, and died. Ecco ! ” 

“And why was he her last lover? Did she re- 
pent?” 

“ No, Signore ! The Count Mastino was watching 
at the door, and when she had killed the Marchese 
he went in to see her.” 

“And killed her, I suppose?” 

“ Per Bacco ! Signore, no one knows. She never 
came out of that room again. The friends of the poor 
Tisio found his body, but they never found Donna 
Renata.” 

“Then what became of her ? ” 

“Cospetto! No one ever found out. Mastino 
married again and said nothing, but after that last 
feast his first wife was never seen again. Diamine 1 
it is strange.” 


42 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


* 1 It’s a curious story, Peppino, but it does not ex- 
plain how the palace is haunted.” 

“Listen, Illustrious 1 I will tell,” said Peppino in a 
subdued whisper. ‘ ‘ The spirits of the Donna Renata, 
of the Conte Mastino, and of the Marchese Tisio, 
haunt the palace, and in the Month of May, when the 
crime was committed, the lovers hold a feast in that 
secret room while the husband watches at the door. 
Then the Donna Renata poisons the Marchese, the 
husband enters, and cries of pain and terror are heard. 
Then the lights go out and all is still.” 

It was certainly very curious, for Peppino was 
describing the very same I had beheld — the terrible 
Renata, the unhappy lover, and the poisoned cup, 
but the Count— — 

“Tell me, Peppino, has any one ever beheld this 
feast of ghosts ? ” 

“ Dio ! Signore, the people who lived in the palace 
were so afraid of the ghosts, that they left altogether, 
and no one has lived there for two hundred years.” 

“Yes, yes! but this spectral banquet seems all 
imagination — no one has seen it ? ” 

“Yes, Signore. A holy Frate, who did not fear the 
devil, went one night in May and saw the feast through 
the door, but just as the poisoned cup was given, the 
ghost of the Conte dragged him away and tried to 
kill him.” 

“ Oh ! and did the ghost succeed ? ” 

“ No, Illustrious ! The Frate made the sign of the 
cross and called on the Madonna, on which the ghosts 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


43 

all vanished with loud cries, and the Frate fainted. 
Next morning he found himself — - — ” 

“In the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele? ” 

“ No, Signore ; lying on the floor of the palace.” 

I was somewhat disappointed at this different end- 
ing to the narrative of Peppino, but it was very ex- 
traordinary that my adventure and that of the Frate 
should be so similar. It was broad day, I had over- 
come my superstitious fancies, yet the whole affair 
was so strange that I could not help feeling a qualm 
of fear, which I tried to laugh off, a proceeding which 
mightily offended Peppino. 

“ Signore, it is the truth I tell.” 

“Suppose I prove it, Peppino. This is the month 
of May, and no doubt the feast takes place every 
night. You will show me the palace, and I will 
watch at the door of the secret room.” 

“ Dio ! do not think of it, Illustrious,” cried Peppino 
in alarm; “the Frate himself, a holy priest, was 
.nearly killed, and you, Signore, you are a heretic.” 

“And, therefore, liable to be carried off by his 
Satanic Majesty. You are complimentary, Peppino. 
Nevertheless, to-morrow you must show me the 
palace.” 

“ The Illustrious must excuse me.” 

“And watch with me for this feast of ghosts.” 

“ Dio ? the Signore jests ! ” 

“No, indeed, Peppino! Iam in sober earnest. 
We will go to the Palazzo Morone to-morrow ; and 
now drive back to my hotel, a$ I feel very tired. 


44 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

Your story has been very entertaining, neverthe- 
less. ” 

“ Ah ! the Signor does not believe me ? ” said Pep- 
pino, getting on the box again. 

“Yes, Ido, Peppino ; but I believe your ghostly 
party can be explained away.” 


A CUE A TURK OF THE NIGHT. 


45 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE ANGELLO HOUSEHOLD. 

The bruises I had received during my nocturnal ad- 
venture turned out to be worse than I expected, espe- 
cially one on the left knee-cap, which quite incapa- 
citated me from walking ; therefore I was forced to 
remain in the house all day. This was somewhat 
annoying, as I was anxious to find out the Palazzo 
Morone, and see the chamber of Donna Renata during 
daylight. I thought also that as the palace bore such 
an evil reputation, my lady of the sepulchre would 
think herself safe in leaving the dead body of the 
young man lying in the room, and if I discovered the 
corpse I intended to give notice to the authorities of 
the crime I had seen committed. 

Unluckily, however, I had to remain in bed most 
of the day, and when Peppino came in to say that his 
fiacre was at the door I was obliged to send him 
away, much to his gratification, as he was by no 
means anxious to guide me to the haunted palace. 
The curious resemblance between my own experience 
and the legend related by Peppino had rather startled 
me ; but, being certain that I had to deal with the 
natural, and not the supernatural, I was firmly resolved 


46 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT, 

to unravel this mystery before leaving Verona. To 
do this every moment was of value, and I bitterly 
regretted that my stiff knee kept me confined to the 
house. Everything, however, is for the best, and 
before I saw the Palazzo Morone, fresh light was 
thrown upon the events of the night in a most unex- 
pected manner. 

After my one day of enforced idleness I was fully 
determined to seek the conclusion of my adventure 
the next, when on the following morning I received 
a note from Maestro Angello, asking me to be sure 
and come to my lesson. As the Maestro was always 
annoyed at the non-appearance of a pupil, I judged it 
wise to go, and arranged with Peppino to search for the 
Palazzo Morone in the afternoon. The lesson would 
only last an hour, and I would thus have plenty of 
time to carry out my intention, as Peppino, knowing 
the palazzo, would be able to take me there direct. 

I felt much better this second day after my adven- 
ture, as the pain had quite left my knee, so having 
thus arranged my plans for the afternoon, I started in 
a very contented frame of mind for the Casa Angello. 

It was a dreary day, for there are dreary days even 
in Italy, and at intervals there fell heavy showers, 
which made me feel somewhat depressed. Pedes- 
trians were hurrying -along with large umbrellas of the 
Gamp species, red being the prevailing colour ; and 
what with the sloppy streets, the gloomy houses, and 
the absence of the chattering Italian populace, the 
whole place looked infinitely melancholy, so in order 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


47 

to keep up my spirits I hummed the weird air I had 
heard in the Palazzo Morone. 

Maestro Angello lived in a narrow street more like 
a drain than anything else, and I entered into a damp 
courtyard through a dismal little tunnel barred by an 
iron gate. The portinaia, who lived in a glass-fronted 
room as if she were a unique specimen of the human 
race preserved in a case, nodded her head to intimate 
that the Maestro was at home, so I climbed up the 
evil-smelling stone stairs which went up the side of 
the courtyard, and soon arrived at Angello’s door. 
Ringing a little bell which tinkled in a most irritating 
manner, I was admitted into the dingy ante-chamber 
by Petronella, a short, fat, good-natured woman 
who managed the whole household, and made a 
great deal of noise over doing so. She was dressed 
in an untidy print gown, with a bright red shawl over 
her shoulders, and wore wooden clogs which clattered 
noisily on the terra-cotta floor. Her plenteous hair 
was roughly twisted into a knot and stuck through 
with large brass pins, which gave her a spiky appear- 
ance about the head. This curious apparition saluted 
me with a jolly smile in a gruff voice, with the usual 
familiarity of Italian servants, — 

“Sta bene! Signore. Ah, the Maestro! povero 
Maestro ! ” 

4 ‘What’s the matter with him, Petronella?” 

“Eh! Signore, he cannot live much longer.” 

As Angello was considerably over eighty years of 
age I thought this highly probable, but was about to 


48 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 

condole with Petronella over his illness, when she 
saved me the trouble of a reply by bursting out into 
a long speech delivered with much dramatic effect 

“It is nothing but trouble, Signore. Such a fine 
young man, and the piccola loved him so! It will 
surely place the Maestro among the saints. Four 
masses for his soul, Signore ; and those priests are such 
thieves. 1 said ‘ No lesson/ but the Maestro is a mule 
for having his own way. Let him teach, say I ; it 
will divert his mind ! There, Signore, go in with you ! 
But t always thought it would come ; four times I 
heard the cock crowing, a bad sign, as Saint Peter 
knew. There, there ! the Madonna aid us ! ” 

Not understanding in the least what Petronella was 
talking about, I allowed myself to be pushed mechan- 
ically into the inner room in a state of bewilderment. 
The Maestro, seated in his usual chair, was waiting 
for me, and his granddaughter, Bianca, who assisted 
him in his lessons, was looking out of the window at 
the falling rain. An atmosphere of sadness seemed 
to pervade the dull, grey room, and as Bianca advanced 
to meet me I saw that her eyes were red with crying, 
while old Angello stared at her in a listless, indifferent 
manner, being so old as to be past all sympathetic 
feelings. 

He was a mere mummy, this old man who had 
been celebrated as a teacher of singing in the days of 
Pasta and Malibran ; a faint shadow of his former 
self, only kept alive by the mechanical exercise of his 
art. Yet, in spite of his great age, his ear was wonder- 


49 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 

fully keen and true ; the sense of hearing, from con- 
tinuous cultivation, being the only one which had 
survived the wreck of his faculties, and with the 
assistance of Bianca, he was still enabled to teach his 
wonderful system in an intelligible manner. Many 
of his pupils had been European, celebrities on the 
operatic stage during the past fifty years, and his 
rooms in Milan were crowded with souvenirs of 
famous artists of undying fame. His children, and, 
with the exception of Bianca, his grandchildren, were 
all dead ; his friends and acquaintances and the gen- 
eration that knew him had all passed away ; but this 
Nestor of lyrical art still survived, alone and sad, amid 
the ruins of his past. White : haired, wrinkled, blear- 
eyed, silent, he sat daily in his great armchair, taking 
but little notice of the life around him, save to ask 
childish questions or talk about some dead-and-gone 
^singer whose fame had once filled the world ; but 
place a baton in his hand, strike the piano, lift the 
voice, and this apparent corpse awoke to life. He 
beat time, he corrected the least false note, he explained 
the necessary instructions in a faltering voice, and, 
during the lesson, bore at least some semblance of 
life ; but when all was finished, the baton fell from 
his withered hand as he relapsed into his former 
apathy. One would have thought that he would have 
been glad to rest in his old age, but such was his love 
for his art that he insisted upon teaching still, and it 
was this alone which kept him alive. His grand- 
daughter, Bianca, trained in the family traditions, was 

4 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT, \ 


50 

enabled to interpret his words, and, as his system of 
singing was unique, in spite of his apparent useless- 
ness, he had many pupils. 

Bianca herself was a charming Italian girl of twenty, 
more like a graceful white lily in appearance than any- ' 
thing else, so fragile, so delicate, so pallid did she seem. 
Her mournful eyes, dark and soft as those of a gazelle, 
seemed too large for her pale, oval face ; and her figure, 
small and slender, always put me in mind of that of 
a fairy. Indeed, in sport, I sometimes called her the 
Fairy of Midnight, after some poet-fancy that haunted 
my brain, for all her strength seemed to have gone 
into those glorious masses of raven-black hair, coiled 
so smoothly round her small head. This portraiture 
seems to give the idea that Bianca was a melancholy 
young person, yet such was not the case, for I have 
seen her as gay as a bird on bright days, or when 
she received a letter from her lover. 

Yes ! she had a lover to whom she was engaged to 
be married, but, curiously enough, I knew nothing 
about this lover, not being intimate enough with 
Bianca to be the confidant of her tender little secret. 
This unknown lover was always away in other parts 
of Italy, and when he did visit Bianca it was during 
my absence, so I used to joke with the Signorina 
about this visionary being. But she, with one deli- 
cate finger on her lip and an arch smile of glee, would 
tell me that he — she never mentioned his name — that 
he had an actual existence, and some day I would 
see him in person at Verona. Well, here was Verona, 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


51 

here was Bianca, but the lover had not appeared, so 
I would have jestingly asked this Fairy of Midnight 
the reasons of his absence, had not the real grief 
expressed on her face deterred me. 

“ Signorina, are you in trouble ? ” 

“Yes, yes ! Signore, great trouble ; but you cannot 
help me. No one can help me/’ 

‘ ‘ But perhaps I ” 

“ No, Signore, it is useless. Come, you must have 
the lesson at once. The Maestro is dull to-day, he 
needs amusement ; so come, the lesson.” • 

“ It is very cruel of you to make a joke of my les- 
son, Signorina.” 

Bianca made no reply to my jesting remark, but 
heaving a little sigh, placed the ivory baton in the 
hand of the Maestro and sat down at the piano. The 
mummy, finding his services required, woke up afid 
had a little conversation with me before beginning 
the lesson. 

“ Eh ! Signor Inglese,” he croaked — this being his 
name for me — “ London is dark ! ” 

He had a fearful prejudice against London, which 
he had once visited at a foggy season, and always 
made the above remark to his English pupils, which 
no one ever thought of contradicting. 

“ Yes, yes ! ” he said, nodding his old head like a 
Chinese mandarin ; ‘ ‘ London is always dark. ” 

“Yes, Maestro.” 

“ You’ve not been working ? ” 

“ Indeed I have, Maestro.” 


52 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT. 


“Come then, Signor Inglese, we will see,” and 
the lesson commenced. 

Oh, those lessons ! what agonies I suffered during 
them, trying to attain the impossible ! To how many 
fits of despair have I given way in failing time after 
time to manage my breathing ! It was all breathing 
— a deep drawing in, a slow letting out — the exercise 
of internal 'muscles of which I had never heard even 
the name — the weariness of incessantly practising 
notes in a still, small voice hardly audible, — it was 
enough tckdiscourage the most persevering. Some of 
the female pupils, I believe, cried with vexation when 
not able to do what was required by the severe Maes- 
tro, who denied the existence of the word “ impossi- 
ble ” in connection with singing ; but I, not being a 
woman, was reduced to swearing, which certainly 
relieved my feelings after a battle with a particularly 
aggravating exercise. 

Even now, when I am successful in my art, I often 
turn cold as I think of those apparently insurmount- 
able obstacles which I had to overcome ; but with 
these painful memories there is mixed at the same 
time a kindly thought of that noble old Maestro, so 
patient, so courteous, so painstaking, whose devo- 
tion to his art was so great, who was so severe on the 
least fault and so encouraging of the least success in 
conquering a difficulty. 

Well, the lesson went on slowly with frequent in- 
terruptions from the Maestro, who was satisfied with 
nothing less than perfection, and I breathed accord- 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


53 


ing to directions, sang “ ah ! ” “ eh,” “ ee’s ” in a tiny, 
tiny voice, until at the end of the hour I was glad to 
sit down and rest before departing. I felt tired out, 
I felt hungry, and, as the weather was bad, I felt 
cross, but at the same time I felt curious to know 
what was the matter with Bianca. 

The Maestro, having remarked encouragingly that 
I had the voice of a goose and would never sing in 
La Scala, relapsed into silence, evidently thinking of 
his colezione which was being prepared in the kitchen 
with some trouble, judging from the raised, tones of 
Petronella’s voice ; and as Bianca still sat at the piano, 
striking random chords, there was nothing for me to 
do but to take my departure. She was not prepared 
to tell me her trouble, and indeed she had no reason 
to do so, but feeling anxious to aid the poor child if I 
could, I ventured to speak to her on the subject. 


# 


54 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


CHAPTER V. 

LOST. 

While I was wondering which was the best way to 
approach this somewhat delicate matter, the door was 
flung open to its fullest extent and Petronella stalked 
majestically into the room. There was a wrathful 
look on her strongly marked features, and Bianca 
trembled in expectation of a storm. Both she and 
the Maestro were terribly afraid of Petronella, who 
ruled the household and looked after them as she 
would a couple of children, so now that she frowned 
they acted like children ; and were cowed by her eagle 
eye. Petronella surveyed the three of us grimly, and, 
being satisfied that her entrance had produced an 
effect, spoke with a dramatic gesture that Rachel her- 
self might have envied, — 

“ I am enraged to-day. Let no one speak to me.” 
Neither the Maestro nor Bianca seemed inclined to 
accept this tread-on-the-tail-of-my-coat challenge, so 
Petronella looked from one to the other to see on 
whom she should pour out the vials of her wrath. 
Ultimately she chose Bianca. 

“Ah, it is you, Signorina ! it is you who enrage 
me. And for why ? you ask. Holy Saints ! you ask 
why. Because you sit there like a statue in the 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


55 

Duoma. Will that bring him back ? say I. No, Sig- 
nora, let the bad young man go. Ecco ! ” 

“Guiseppe is not a bad young man,” cried Bianca, 
rising angrily to her feet 

“ Are you older than I am, piccola ? No ! Have 
you been married like I was ? No ! Then let me 
speak, child that you are. All men are bad — ask the 
Signor there ! All men are bad ! ” 

Petronella made a comprehensive stveep of her 
arms so as to indicate the whole masculine portion of 
the human race, and I, seeing an opportunity of find- 
ing out what was the matter, did not attempt to de- 
fend masculine depravity in any way, but artfully . 
asked a question, — 

“I can hardly say. I don’t know what you are 
talking about ! ” 

“ Eh ! has the Signore no ears ? I speak of Guiseppe 
Pallanza ! ” 

“ What, the tenor at the Teatro Ezzelino ? ” 

“Yes, Signore, he is the engaged one of the Sig- 
norina here, and ” 

“Enough, enough, Petronella!” cried Bianca, her 
face flushing. “ Do not trouble the Signor with these 
chatterings.” 

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” I replied quickly. “Per- 
haps I can help you, Signorina, if you require help ! ” 

“ Eh, eh ! ” assented Petronella approvingly, “ the 
English have long heads, piccola. Tell him all and 
he will find out what others cannot find out. And 
you, Maestro, the colezione is ready.” 


56 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

She tenderly led the old man into the next room, 
and I was thus left alone with Bianca, who had re- 
treated to the window, where she stood twisting her 
handkerchief with nervous confusion. 

“ Do not tell me, Signorina, if you would rather 
not/’ I said gently. 

“ Ah, Signore, if I thought you would be my friend ! ” 

“ Certainly I will be your friend.” 

“The Maestro is so old. Petronella is so foolish. 
We know none in Verona, and I can do nothing for 
my poor Guiseppe ! ” 

“Your lover, Signorina?” 

“Yes. I promised you should see him at Verona, 
but — now — ah now ! — but perhaps you have heard 
him singing at the Ezzelino ? ” 

“ No ; I have not been. to the opera since my arri- 
val here. What is the matter with him ? Is he ill ? ” 

“ I know not ! I know not ! He is lost ! ” 

‘Lost?” 

“Yes, Signore. My Guiseppe has disappeared and 
no one knows where he is 1 ” 

Could there be any connection between the disap- 
pearance of Guiseppe and the death of that young 
man I had seen in the fatal chamber ? The thought 
flashed across me as she spoke, but I dismissed it as 
idle. 

“And you want some one to look for Signor Pal- 
lanza ? ” 

“Yes, yes!” 

“Well, I will undertake the task.” 


A CREATURE OR THE NIGHT 


57 

“You, Signore!” she cried joyfully; “will you 
search for him ? ” 

“Certainly, Signorina ; I promised to be your 
friend. Now sit down, and tell me all about your 
lover and his disappearance. I may be able to do 
more for you than you think.” 

The fact is, that by some subtle instinct I con- 
nected the disappearance of this young man with the 
curious events of two nights before, ' and, leading 
Bianca to a seat, I prepared to listen attentively to 
her recital. 

“Signore,” she began in her flute-like voice, “I 
have been engaged to marry Guiseppe Pallanza for 
some months. He was a pupil of the Maestro, and 
we loved each other when we first met ; but ah ! Sig- 
nore, he was poor then, and we could not marry, but 
now he is rich and famous.” 

“ Yes, I have heard of the tenor Pallanza, but have 
never seen him on the stage.” 

“He has the voice of a god, Signore, and at La 
Scala, two seasons ago — oh, Signore, it was the talk of 
the whole city. The papers called him the New 
Mario, and he is so handsome — like an angel. After 
La Scala he went to Florence, to Naples, and then to 
Rome, where he sang in ‘ Faust’ and ‘ Polyeuct’ at 
the Apollo, then he came on here a week ago for the 
season at the Ezzelino ; but now he is lost. Dio ! 
how unhappy I am.” 

She covered her face with her hands, and wept 
quietly for a few minutes, and, impatient as I was to 


A CREATURE OP THE NIGHT. 


5 * 

hear the particulars of the affair, I did not dare to dis- 
turb her grief. After a time she dried her tears, and 
went on again, — 

“He came to Verona on Saturday, Signore, and we 
were so happy together talking about our marriage ; 
and on Monday he sang in ‘ Faust’ at the Ezzelino. 
I went to the theatre with Petronella, and that was 
the last time I saw him.” 

“ Oh, then he disappeared on Monday night ! ” I 
asked quickly, feeling my heart begin to beat rapidly 
with excitement, for it was on Monday night that my 
extraordinary adventure had taken place. 

“Yes, Signore. He was to come hereafter the 
opera, to tell the Maestro how he had sung — you 
know how anxious the Maestro is over his pupils, but 
he never came, nor the next day either ; so this morn- 
ing I went to ask at the Ezzelino, and they told me 
he had disappeared.” 

“ It’s curious I never heard of it. The disappear- 
ance of a popular tenor is not a common thing ! ” 

“Signore, he sang on Monday and was to sing again 
to-night, so nothing was thought about him not com- 
ing to the theatre yesterday ; but this morning they 
sent to his lodgings, to find that he had not been 
there since he left the Ezzelino after the opera on 
Monday.” 

“ The papers will be full of it to-night ! ” 

“ Ah ! that will not bring him back,” said poor little 
Bianca in a melancholy tone, shaking her small head, 
which drooped like a faded flower. 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT, 


59 

I was now certain that my adventure on Monday 
night had something to do with the disappearance of 
Guiseppe Pallanza, and doubtless the young man I 
had seen in the deserted palace was the missing tenor ; 
but the antique dress, the amorous rendezvous — these 
needed some explanation. 

“ Was he in love with any one, Signorina?” 

It was a cruel but necessary question which angered 
Bianca, who threw back her little head with great 
haughtiness. 

“Signore, he loved me and no one else.” 

“ Had he any reason for disappearing ? ” 

“ Signore 1 ” 

“Forgive me if I appear rude,” I said in a depre- 
cating tone ; “but indeed, Signorina, to find out all 
I must know all.” 

“Well, Signore, I am telling you all,” she replied 
petulantly. “It was most strange his going away 
from the theatre.” 

“ How so ? ” 

“ He left the Ezzelino in his stage-dress ! ” 

“Ah!” 

I jumped to my feet in a state of uncontrollable ex- 
citement, for I saw at once that I was on the right 
track. The antique dress was explained now ! it was 
the dress he wore in the last act of “ Faust.” 

“But surely, Signorina, that was very extraordi- 
nary,” I said, pausing in my walk ; “no one would 
walk the streets of Verona in a dress like that.” 

“I can explain that, Signore. When Guiseppe came 


60 A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 

from Rome, a friend came with him who was very ill 
— a baritone singer, who was in the same company 
at the Apollo. I was told at the Ezzelino that just 
before the last act of the opera, Guiseppe received a 
note saying that his friend was dying, so as soon as 
the curtain fell, he threw on a cloak which hid his 
dress, and went away as quickly as possible, so as to 
see his friend before he died.” 

“ Oh ! and is the friend dead yet ? ” 

“I do not know, Signore.” 

The story of the dying friend might be true, yet to 
me it seemed highly improbable, and I guessed that 
the people at the theatre had told this fiction to pacify 
the fears of Signorina Angello, to whom they knew 
that Pallanza was engaged. The real truth of the 
matter was doubtless that the letter came from the 
woman I had followed, asking him to meet her at the 
deserted Palazzo Morone, and he had gone there in- 
nocently enough to be poisoned as I had seen. This 
explained a great deal, but it did not explain why the 
meeting should have taken place at such an extraor- 
dinary spot, and why the woman should have come 
from a burial-ground to keep the appointment. Tak- 
ing all the circumstances into consideration, I was 
certain that it was Pallanza I had seen murdered on 
Monday night, but in order to be quite sure of his 
identity, I asked Bianca if she had any photograph of 
her betrothed. 

“ Of a surety, Signore,” she replied, and going to an 
album on the table, brought me a cabinet portrait 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 6 1 

“This is Guiseppe as Faust, the dress in which he left 
the theatre/’ 

It was as I surmised. The portrait was coloured, 
and I saw an exact representation of the young man 
I had beheld at the Palazzo Morone. The typical 
Italian face with the black curly hair, dark eyes, small 
moustache and sallow skin ; the slender figure arrayed 
in a doublet of blue velvet, slashed with white satin ; 
the azure silk cloak, the poniard and the high riding- 
boots — nothing was wanting ; the successful tenor of 
the portrait was the man who had taken poison from 
the hand of the lady of the sepulchre. Still it was no 
use telling Bianca of my suspicions until I had dis- 
covered the whole secret ; and besides, as Guiseppe 
was dead, I naturally shrank from being the bearer 
of such bad news. I suppose my face betrayed my 
thoughts, for I saw the Signorina watching me anx- 
iously ; so to lull any fancies she might have, I made 
the first remark that came into my head, — 

“ I never saw Faust in riding-boots before ! ” 

“Ah, Signore! ” replied the girl with a fond look, 
“ Guiseppe was an artist as well as a singer, and de- 
signed his own dresses. He said that as Faust in the 
last act was going to fly with Marguerite, and Mephis- 
topheles speaks of the horses waiting, it is natural that 
he should wear a riding-dress/’ 

This explanation was quite satisfactory, and having 
thus learned the identity of the young man whom I 
had seen murdered, I prepared to go, when another 
idea entered my head, and, going over to the piano, I 


62 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

began to play by ear the strange air I had heard at the 
Palazzo Morone. Bianca gave a cry of surprise as 
she heard the melody, and came over to the piano 
with a puzzled look on her face. 

“Ah, you know it, Signorina ? ” I said, turning 
round quickly. 

“ Yes ! in fact I gave it to Guiseppe. It is an old 
air by Palestrina, which I found among the music of 
the Maestro, to which Guiseppe set words. He is 
very fond of it and sings it a great deal. Ah, Signore, 
you must have heard him sing it, for no one else has 
a copy." 

I turned off the matter with a careless remark, not 
caring to tell Bianca where I had heard it ; and now 
being quite certain that I would be able to unravel the 
whole mystery, I wanted to get away as quickly as 
possible in order to arrange my plans. 

“Addio, Signorina," I said, giving her my hand. 
“When I see you again I may be able to give you 
news. ” 

“ Good news? ” 

“Yes, I hope so, Signorina,” I replied hurriedly as 
Petronella appeared at the door. “ Do not anticipate 
evil, I beg of you. I have no doubt Guiseppe is quite 
well.” 

“ Oh, I hope so ! I trust so ! Addio ! Signor Hugo, 
you will come back soon ? ” 

“To-morrow, Signorina.” 

“ Ah ! I see you have brought back the smiles,” said 
Petronella's gruff voice as she ushered me out. 


A CkkATUKE OF THE NIGHT. 


*3 

“What do you think of this evil one going away, 
Signore ? I was going to have four masses if he is 
dead, but those priests are such thieves. Ecco ! ” 

“ Why should you think he is dead, Petronella ? ” 

“Eh, Signore, he loves the piccola so much that 
nothing but death would keep him away.” 

“Except ” 

“I know what you would say, Signore, except a 
woman. Well, maybe men are all bad. Eve been 
married, Signore — I know, I know.” 

“Well, I don’t think I’m particularly bad, Petro- 
nella.” 

“Eh! then you’re not a true man, Signore,” retorted 
Petronella, closing the argument and the door at the 
same time. 


64 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


CHAPTER VI. 

A HAUNTED PALACE. 

I need hardly say that I was very much excited over 
the strange discovery I had made, as there now ap- 
peared to be a reasonable chance of clearing , up the 
mystery of the Palazzo Morone. I had discovered the 
name of the unhappy young man, which gave me a 
most important clue to the reading of the enigma ; but 
I had yet to find out the name of the lady who had 
behaved in such an extraordinary manner and com- 
mitted so daring a crime. After hearing Peppino’s 
story I fancied that she might perchance be the Con- 
tessa Morone, but had later on dismissed this idea as 
idle, seeing that she had been absent from Verona for 
many months ; but now that Bianca had told me that 
Pallanza had come straight from Rome, I began to 
suspect that I had been right in my surmise. Accord- 
ing to Peppino the Contessa had taken up her residence 
at the Italian capital, so what was more likely than 
that she had fallen in love with Guiseppe while he was 
singing at the Teatro Apollo, and, following him to 
Verona, had killed him by means of poison, in revenge 
for his determination to leave her ? 

So far everything was feasible enough, but two 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT. 


65 

points of the affair perplexed me very much, one being 
the choosing of the deserted palace as a place of meet- 
ing, the other the visit to the burial ground by the 
woman. We do not live in the times of the Borgias, 
when noble ladies can thus rid themselves of their 
lovers with impunity, else I might have believed that 
this phantom of Donna Lucrezia had gone to the 
old Veronese cemetery to select a grave for the 
unfortunate young man she intended to murder. To 
think thus, however, was foolish, and although I 
guessed that she had used the old palace of her family as 
a safe place for a lovers’ meeting, seeing its gruesome 
reputation secured it from public curiosity, yet I was 
quite unable to explain the cemetery mystery. One 
thing, however, appeared to me to be certain, that 
Guiseppe Pallanza had been carrying on an intrigue 
with the Contessa— presuming the ghoul to be her— 
and that he had gone to the Palazzo Morone on the 
night in question at her request. As to the sick 
friend 

- Now I greatly mistrusted that sick-friend story. So 
many fast young Englishmen whom I knew had 
adopted the same lie to cover their little peccadilloes 
that I was quite sure Pallanza had employed the same 
fiction to prevent the scandal of his intrigue with this 
unknown woman from reaching the ears of his 
fiancee. Bianca was a very proud girl, and I felt 
certain, from what little I had seen of her character, 
that if she discovered Guiseppe was playing her false, 
she would at once break off the engagement at any 
5 


66 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


cost. Like all Italian women, when she loved she 
loved with her whole soul, and expected the same 
single-hearted return to her passion ; so that the 
discovery of her lover's infidelity could only be 
punished sufficiently, according to her ideas, by an 
everlasting parting between them. Pallanza knew 
this, and therefore tried to hide his guilt by the plau- 
sible story of his dying friend, which appeared to me 
to be such a remarkably Weak fabrication that, before 
going to the Palazzo Morone, I determined to find 
out if this mythical invalid existed. 

Curiously enough, although I was studying for the 
musical profession and was devoted to operatic per- 
formances, I had not been to the Teatro Ezzelino 
since my arrival at Verona, , preferring to wander 
about the streets of the romantic old city in the moon- 
light to sitting night after night in a stifling atmos- 
phere of heat, glare, and noise. I made up my mind, 
however, to go on this special night, ia the hope that 
I might hear somp talk about Pallanza's disappear- 
ance, and be guided thereby in fny future movements ; 
but meantime I went to the theatre in the afternoon, 
and, introducing myself to the impresario as a friend 
of Guiseppe’s, asked him if he had heard any news of 
the missing tenor. 

The impresario, a dingy old man of doubtful clean- 
liness, was in despair, and raged against the absent 
Pallanza like a Garrick of the gutter. He had heard 
nothing of this birbante — this ladrone Who had thus 
disappeared, and left an honest impresario in the 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT, 67 

lurch. “ Faust ” was the success of the season ; with- 
out Pallanza there could be no “Faust,” and the 
season would be a failure. What was he to do ? Cos- 
petto ! it was the luck of the devil. Why had this 
scellerato run away ? A sick friend ? Bah ! there was 
no sick friend. It was a woman who had enticed 
away this pazzo. A dying friend from Rome was 
not a very likely story, but a lie^-a large and mag- 
nificent lie. Here was the basso of his company, 
who had been singing with Pallanza at the Apollo ; 
ask him, truth is on his lips, Behold this good 
man ! 

Signor Basso-profundo advanced, and though truth 
might have been on his lips it certainly was not 
apparent on his face, for a more deceitful counte- 
nance I never beheld. However, Ihave no doubt he 
spoke truth on this occasion, as there was no money 
to be made by telling a lie, and he confirmed the 
words of the wrathful impresario. The sick friend 
was a myth, but in Rome Pallanza had been friendly 
with a lady. Per Bacco ! a great lady, but the name 
was unknown to him. It appeared that Signor 
Basso-profundo dressed in the same room as Pallanza, 
and it was just before the last act of “ Faust ” that Gui- 
seppe received the note. He told the basso-profundo 
that it was from a dying friend, and had departed 
quickly when the opera was ended, in his stage-dress, 
with a cloak wrapped round him. The basso- 
profundo was sure the note was from a lady. The 
impresario was also sure, and devoted the lady in 


68 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

question to the infernal gods with a richness of ex- 
pression I have never heard equalled in any lan- 
guage. 

Having thus found out what I suspected from the 
first, that the dying friend was a mere invention to 
cloak an intrigue, I left the impresario to tear his 
hair and call Guiseppe names in company with 
Signor Basso-profundo, and went back to my hotel, 
where I found Peppino waiting with his fiacre to 
drive me to the Palazzo Morone. 

He was still unwilling to take me to this place of evil 
reputation, and made one last effort to shake my 
determination by gruesome stories of people who had 
gone into the palazzo and never came out again ; but I 
laughed at all these hobgoblin romances, and getting 
into the fiacre, told him to drive off at once, which 
he did, after crossing himself twice, so as to secure 
his own safety should the ghosts of Palazzo Morone 
take a fancy to carry me off as a heretic. 

We speedily left the broad, modern streets, and 
rattled down gloomy, mediaeval passages, the humid 
atmosphere of which chilled me to the bone, in spite 
of the heat of the day. The fiacre— with its jingling 
bells — bumped on the uneven stones, turned abruptly 
round unexpected corners, corkscrewed itself between 
narrow walls, crept under low archways, and after 
innumerable dodgings, twistings, hairbreadth escapes 
from upsettings, and perilous balancings on the edges 
of drains, at length emerged into that queer little piazza 
at the end of which I saw the great facade of the 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT 69 

richly-decorated palace I had beheld in the moon- 
light of two nights before. 

I had been an ardent student of Baedeker since my 
arrival in Italy, and from the fortified appearance of 
the palazzo, judged that it had been built by Michelo 
Sammicheli, who, according to the guide-book, was 
the greatest military architect of the middle ages. 
The building was four stories- high, with long lines of 
narrow windows closely barred by curiously orna- 
mented iron cages — which bulged outward,— -as a 
protection against thieves or enemies, and the whole 
front was adorned with almost obliterated paintings 
after the style of the Genoese palaces. In addition 
to the brush, the chisel had done its work, and 
wreaths of flowers, grinning masks, nude figures of 
boys and girls, elaborate crests and armorial devices 
with fishes, birds, tritons, shells, and fruit we^e 
sculptured round the windows, along the fortified 
castellated top, and over the great portal. All the 
square in front of this splendid specimen of Renais- 
sance art was overgrown with grass. The houses on 
every side were also deserted, and what with the bro- 
ken windows, the empty piazza, and the closed doors, 
everything had a melancholy, desolate appearance, 
as if a curse rested upon the whole neighbourhood. 

Peppino evidently was of this opinion, for although 
it was broad daylight, and the hot sunlight poured 
down on the grass-grown square, yet he kept 
muttering prayers in a low voice ; and if by chance 
he looked towards the Palazza, he always* crossed 


70 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


himself with great devoutness. I was not, however, 
going to be baulked of my intention by any super- 
stitious feeling on the part of an Italian cab-driver, so 
I ordered Peppino to tie up his horse and come with 
me into the palace. This modest request, however, 
so horrified Peppino that he absolutely squeaked with 
horror, like a rabbit caught in a snare. 

“ I, Signore ! ” he whimpered, touching the relic on 
his breast. “ Dio ! not to be King of Italy would I 
go into that house ! If you are wise, Signore, look 
and come away lest evil befall you. Cospetto ! 
Signore, remember the Frate. Think of Madonna 
Matilda ! ” 

“ What about Madonna Matilda, Peppino ? ” 

“ Eh, ' Illustrious, do you not know? She was a 
friend of his Holiness at Canossa, and, though a 
woman, wanted to celebrate mass, but II Cristo burnt 
her to ashes with fire from above !— and she died. 
Ecco ! Cospetto ! Signore, it is foolish to meddle with 
holy things.” 

“Well, you can’t call this palace holy, Peppino?” 

“No, Illustrious'. It is accursed!” replied the 
Italian, crossing himself, “ but there is fire below as 
Well as above, and you are a heretic.” 

“Which means that I had better beware of the 
devil ! eh, Peppino. Wellj well ; I’m not afraid, so. I 
will enter the palace, and if you see me carried off by 
the ghosts, you can tell the carabinieri.” 

“ Dio ! Illustrious, do not jest ; but if you will go 
you must go. I will wait here and pray for your soul.” 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT, 


71 

Peppino was as obstinate as a mule in his fear of 
ghosts, so leaving him to smoke his long Italian cigar 
and watch the brown lizards scuttling over the hot 
stones in the sunshine, I advanced towards the palace 
with the determination to find out the secret chamber. 
As I knew it would be dark therein, owing to its want 
of windows, I had taken the precaution to provide my- 
self with a candle and a box of matches. Feeling that 
these were safe in my pocket, I went to the iron gate 
and entered the courtyard in the same way as I had 
done on that night. This time, however, I examined 
the ironwork, and found to my surprise that the miss- 
ing bar had been half filed through and then wrenched 
away. The marks left were quite fresh, and it had 
been done so recently that the bar had not had time 
to grow rusty. This discovery astonished me not a 
little, as I did not see the reason of such an entrance 
being made. If it were the Contessa who used the 
palace, she would have the key of the side door, and 
could thus admit herself and her lover at her pleasure, 
while this breach could only have been made by some 
one who could not enter in any other way. 

I thought of the person into whose arms I had 
fallen, the person who had placed a handkerchief wet 
with some liquid over my face, and although, accord- 
ing to Peppino's story, this watcher at the door was 
the phantom of Count Mastino Morone, yet dismiss- 
ing such an explanation as due to superstition, I be- 
gan to think that another person had followed the lady 
of the sepulchre besides myself. Yes, there could be 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


72 

no doubt about it, some third person had tracked her 
to the palazzo, and, unable to enter in the ordinary- 
way, had filed through and broken the iron bar in the 
gate. Gaining access' to the interior of the palazzo in 
this way, the unknown had penetrated to the secret 
chamber, and doubtless had witnessed the same 
strange scene as I had done. My presence had been 
discovered, and to preserve for some unknown reason, 
the secret of this terrible chamber, I had been seized, 
rendered insensible by chloroform, and taken to the 
Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, so that I would be unable to 
re-discover the Palazzo Morone. 

All these thoughts flashed through my brain with the 
rapidity of lightning, and I wondered whom this un- 
known could be — a friend of Pallanza ? an accomplice 
of the Contessa ! I did not know what to think, so 
leaving all such conjectures to a more seasonable 
time, I crossed over the dreary courtyard and entered 
the great hall. 

It was a magnificent entrance, and when thronged 
with courtiers, men-at-arms, pages, and ladies, must 
have presented a noble appearance. Of enormous size, 
the high walls and lofty roof were painted with glow- 
ing frescoes representing the ancient glories of the 
Republic, and the floor was brilliant with gorgeous 
mosaics of coats-of-arms and fantastic figures. The 
painted windows on either side of the huge portal 
blazed with variegated tints, and the bright sun stream- 
ing in through the glass — as many-coloured as Joseph’s 
coat — dyed the floor with vivid lights and gaudy 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


73 

hues. Ancient tapestries hung here and there between 
the two lines of black marble columns running down 
the sides of the hall, and the wind, stealing in through 
the open door, shook the grey dust from these mould- 
dering splendours of the loom. At the end of this im- 
mense vestibule arose a broad staircase of white mar- 
ble with balustrades of elaborate bronze fretwork, and 
from the first landing two other flights sloped off to 
right and left of the main branch. All the air was filled 
with floating shadows, the soft wind moved the hang- 
ings without sound, and I was alone in the deserted 
hall, over which brooded an intense silence, which 
made me shiver in the chill atmosphere pervading 
this abode of desolation. 

However, the afternoon was passing quickly, and 
as I had plenty to do before nightfall, I rapidly as- 
cended the shallow stairs. Turning to the right, 
which was the way the unknown lady had taken the 
other night, I soon found myself in the long corridor 
with the windows looking out on to the courtyard. 
Many of these wore broken, but others were quite 
whole, their colours as bright and glowing as when 
they had first been placed there. 

At the end of the corridor I turned to the left, and 
found the short flight of shallow steps, which, how- 
ever, led up into darkness, so that before ascending 
them I had to light my candle. Luckily there were 
no draughts, for the air was absolutely still, and the 
flame of my candle burned clear and steadily. Up 
these steps I went, entered the short corridor, and 


A CREATURE OR THE MIGHT. 


74 

paused before the heavy door which gave admission 
into the ante-chamber of the fatal room. Realizing 
what had taken place inside on that fatal night, I 
dreaded to enter, lest I should find the corpse of the 
unfortunate Pallanza on the floor; but overcoming 
my emotions, with a strong effort I thrust open the 
door and entered. 

The tapestried chamber presented exactly the same 
appearance, with the small table in the centre, the 
burnt-out torch lying on the floor, and at the end the 
rich folds of the gold-worked curtains veiling the en- 
trance to the inner apartment. I stood on the threshold, 
half expecting to hear the shrill notes of the mandolin, 
and the passionate song ring through the silence, but 
all was still and mute, as if it were indeed the tomb 
of the dead I expected to find. 

At last, with a thrill of dread, I parted the heavy 
curtains and found myself in the circular chamber. 
The faint light of the candle just hollowed out a gulf 
in the Cimmerian darkness, and I saw the dim glitter 
of the gold and silver on the table, the ghastly glim- 
mer of the white cloth, and the sparks of weak fire 
flashing from the tarnished gold embroidery of the 
curtains; All was as I had seen it — the eight white 
pillars, the dull-red hangings with their Arabesque 
patterns of golden thread, the gilt table, the massive 
metal goblets and silver candelabra, even the half- 
eaten fruit, with everything on the table in disorder ; 
but, somewhat to my relief, I found nothing else. The 
dead body, which I had seen lying at the feet of that 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


75 

terrible woman, had vanished, and although I searched 
over every inch of the chamber, I could find no trace 
of the fearful crime which had been committed. The 
demon who had enticed the unhappy young man to 
his ruin had completed her evil work by secreting his 
body, and I began to think that all trace of Guiseppe 
Pallanza had disappeared from the earth for evermore. 

Who was this woman who, in this room, had so 
wickedly slain her lover? Who was the man — I felt 
sure it was a man — who had seized me at the door, 
and borne me insensible from the palace ? I could 
answer neither of these questions, and had it not 
been for the story of Bianca, for the disappearance 
of Pallanza, I would have fancied the whole some 
hideous dream, some nightmare of medieval devilry, 
which had filled my brain with the phantasmagoria 
of delirium. Everything, however, was too real, too 
terrible, to admit of such an explanation ; so as I could 
discover nothing more from examining the chamber I 
prepared to leave. The atmosphere yet had a faint 
aroma of the sandalwood perfume which emanated 
from the unknown woman ; at my feet still lay the 
broken mandolin ; and the rich wine-cups still glit- 
tered in the dim light. I no longer wondered at ✓such 
wealth being left here undefended, for superstition, 
more of a safeguard than bolts and bars, protected 
this cave of Aladdin from thievish Italian fingers ; 
and even if a thief had known of these riches, I doubt 
whether he would have had the courage to dare the 
unseen horrors of the palazzo. 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


76 

For myself, standing there in the perfumed atmos- 
phere, with the light just showing the intense gloom, 
the dim glitter of gold and silver, the absolute 5till- 
ness and the horrible memories of the chamber — I 
felt as though I were in the presence of the dead. 
At the table sat the phantoms of Donna Renata and 
her lover, smiling at one another with hatred in their 
ghostly hearts ; at the door watched the evil face of 
the outraged husband awaiting the consummation of 
the tragedy ; and in imagination I could see the 
wicked smile of the woman, the scowl of the hus- 
band, the loathing look on the face of the lover. My 
breath, coming quick and fast, made the flame of the 
candle flicker and flare until, overcome by the horror 
of the room, and by the workings of my imagina- 
tion, I turned and fled — fled from the evil gloom, 
from that blood-stained splendour, out into the blessed 
sunshine and pure air of heaven. 

“Dio!” cried Peppino, as I walked quickly out 
into the square, “how pale you are, Illustrious ! Eh, 
Signore, have the ghosts ” 

“I have seen no ghosts, Peppino, but I have felt 
their presence.” 

“Cospetto ! did I not warn the Signore against the 
accursed place ? Come, Illustrious, jump in and we 
will leave this abode of devils.” 

“Very well, Peppino,” I replied, entering the fiacre, 
“but drive slowly, as I want to know the way to 
this palazzo.” 

“ Dio ! the Signore will not come again ? ” 


77 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

“ Yes ! I am coming some night this month.” 

“ Saints ! the Signore is mad and lost ! ” muttered 
Peppino with a pale face. Then, hastily gathering 
up the reins, he drove rapidly away from the lonely 
square, leaving this gruesome palace to the night 
and to the feast of ghosts. 


78 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


CHAPTER VII. 

AT THE TEATRO EZZELINO. 

From my mother I had inherited one of those highly 
strung organizations which are largely affected by 
their surroundings, and which, like an jEolian harp, 
to the sighing wind vibrate with every breath of pas- 
sion that passes over them — organizations which take 
their colour, their bias, their desires from the last event 
which occurs, and which are entirely in sympathy 
with the predominating feeling of the moment. In 
childhood this dangerous spirit of moods and fancies 
had been fostered by an old Scottish nurse, who used 
to thrill me with wild stories of Highland supersti- 
tions, and with weird ballads of elfish fantasy ; but 
since I had mixed in the world I had learned to con- 
trol and sway my imaginative faculty, and had thus 
acquired a command over myself But, as I said 
before, superstition is in every one, and waxes or 
wanes according to their surroundings ; so the ter- 
rors of childish tales, which had been half-forgotten 
in the bustle of worldly life, now came upon my soul 
with full force in this haunted city of Verona. The 
burial-ground, the ghostly room, the accursed palace, 
the phantoms of evil-seeming, all these peopled the 


A CEEaWre Of The night. 


79 

chambers of my brain, with their unreal horrors, 
until I became so nervous and unstrung, that every 
sudden noise, every unexpected sound, and every 
shadowy comer, made me thrill with supernatural 
fear as if I were again a child listening to tales of 
devildom. 

I knew this mood was a bad one, and would have 
sought cheerful society to drive away the evil spirit 
had I known where to seek it. But there were no 
English at my hotel, and, in the present state of 
affairs, the Casa Angello was not particularly cheerful, 
so as I did not care about spending a lonely evening, 
I methought myself of my intention to go to the 
Teatro Ezzelino. On glancing at the paper I saw 
that the opera for the night was “Lucrezia Borgia;” 
and this name gave me a renewed sensation of hor- 
ror. The lady of the sepulchre had taken in my im- 
agination the semblance of Ferrara’s Duchess, and 
the memory of the terrible daughter of Pope Alexan- 
der seemed never to leave me. She had come from 
the graveyard, she had supped in the fatal chamber, 
she had murdered her lover; and now, when she 
had vanished into thin air, I was to see her repre- 
sented on the stage in all her magnificent wicked- 
ness. I had a good mind not to go, but seeing that 
there was a ballet after the opera, I thought I would 
brave this phantom of the brain, and find in the light- 
ness of the dancing an antidote to the gloomy terrors 
of the lyrical drama. 

The cooking at my hotel was somewhat better than 


So A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 

the usual run of Italian culinary ideas, so I made an 
excellent dinner, drank some Asti Spumati, an agree- 
able wine of an exhilarating nature, and felt much 
better when I started for the Ezzelino. 

It was one of those perfect Italian evenings such as 
one sees depicted by the glowing brush of Turner, 
and there yet lingered in the quiet evening sky a 
faint purple reflection of the sunset glories. No moon 
as yet, but here and there a burning star throbbing in 
the deep heart of the sky, and under the peaceful 
heavens the weather-worn red roofs and grey walls 
of antique Verona mellowed to warm loveliness in the 
twilight shadows. Beautiful as it was, however, 
with the memory of that eerie night still on me, I had 
no desire to renew my moonlight wanderings, so, 
without pausing to admire the enchanting scene, I 
hastened on to the theatre to be in time for the first 
notes of Donnizetti's opera. 

TheTeatro Ezzelino is a very charming opera-house, 
built in a light, airy fashion, with plenty of ventila- 
tion, a thing to be grateful for on hot summer nights. 
All the decorations are white and gold, so that it has a 
delightfully cool appearance ; nevertheless, what with 
the warmth of the season without, and the glaring heat 
of the gas within, I felt unpleasantly hot. The gallery 
and stalls were crowded, but as it was only eight 
o’clock, most of the boxes were empty, and I knew 
would not be filled until late in the evening by those 
who, tired of the well-known music of “ Lucrezia,” 
wanted to see the new ballet. 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT. 


8l 

Having glanced round the theatre, I bought a book 
of the words, hired an opera-glass from an obsequious 
attendant, and settled myself comfortably for the 
evening. The orchestra — a very excellent one, di- 
rected by Maestro Feraldi, of Milan — played the pre- 
lude in a sufficiently good style, and the pictured cur- 
tain arose on the well-known Venetian scene which I 
had so often beheld. The chorus, In their heteroge- 
neous costumes of no known age, wandered about in 
their usual aimless fashion, shouted their approval of 
smiling Venice in the ordinary indifferent style ; and 
a very good contralto who sang Orsini, having de- 
livered her first aria with great dramatic fervour, they 
all vanished from the stage, leaving the sleeping 
Genaro to be contemplated by Lucrezia Borgia. 

I was disappointed with the Duchess when she ar- 
rived, and I must say that my majestic evil lady of 
the sepulchre looked far more like the regal sister of 
Caesar Borgia than this diminutive singer with the big 
voice, who raged round the stage like a spitfire, and 
gave one no idea of the terrible Medusa of Ferrara, 
whose smile was death to all, lovers and friends alike. 
The tenor was a long individual, and Lucrezia being 
so small, their duets, in point of physical appearance, 
were sufficiently ridiculous; but as they sang well to- 
gether, their rendering of the characters, artistically 
speaking, was enjoyable. The chorus entered and 
discovered Lucrezia with Genaro ; the prima-donna 
defied them all with the look and ways of a cross 
child ; there was the usual dramatic chorus, and the 


82 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT 


curtain fell on the prologue with but slight applause. 
I did not go out, as I felt very comfortable, so amused 
myself with looking round the house, when, during 
the first act of the opera, two officers entered the 
theatre and took their seats in front of mine; They 
were two gay young men, who talked a great deal 
about one thing and another in such raised voices 
that I could hear all they said, some of which was 
not particularly edifying. 

During the first act which succeeds the prologue 
they were comparatively quiet, but when Lucrezia 
entered in the second to sing the celebrated duet 
with Alfonso, they were loud in their expressions of 
disapproval concerning her appearance. The music 
of this part of the opera is particularly loud and noisy, 
but even through the crash of the orchestra I could 
hear their expressions of disapproval. 

“ The voice is not bad, but the appearance — the 
acting — oime ! ” 

“ Eh, Teodoro, what would you ? Donna Lucrezia 
is not oh the stage. ” 

“ Not on the stage ! ” said Teodoro in an astonished 
tone. u Ebbene ! where is she ? ” 

“ Look at the box yonder ! ” 

“Per Bacco ! the Contessa Morone.” 

I started as I heard this name, and, looking in the 
same direction as the young men, saw a woman 
seated far back in the shadow of a box, the fourth or 
fifth from the stage. She was talking to three gentle- 
men, and her face was turned away so that I could 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


83 

not see her features ; but, judging from the glimpse 
I caught of her head and bust, she seemed to be a 
very majestic woman. 

The Contessa Morone ! She was then in Verona 
after all. This discovery removed all my doubts 
concerning the identity of the ghoul. She was the 
woman who had left the vault in the burial-ground. 
She was the woman who had slain Guiseppe Pallanza 
in the secret chamber of the deserted palace, and she 
was the woman seated in the shadow of the box, 
talking idly as though she had no terrible crime to 
burden her conscience. If I could only see her face 
I would then recognise her; but, as if she had some 
presentiment of danger, she persistently looked every- 
where but in my direction. * As I gazed she moved 
slightly, the bright light of a lamp shone on her neck, 
and I saw a sudden tongue of red flame flash through 
the semi-twilight of the box, which at once reminded 
me of the necklace of rubies worn by that terrible 
vampire of the graveyard. 

Eager to know all about this woman, whom I felt 
sure was the murderess of Pallanza, I listened breath- 
lessly to the two officers who were still talking about 
her. 

“It is a year since Morone died,” said Teodoro, 
lowering his opera-glass, “and she has lived since 
at Rome, where I met her. Why has she returned 
here?” 

“Eh, who knows ! Perhaps to reside again at the 
Palazzo Morone.” 


8-4 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


“That tomb. Diamine ! She must become a ghost 
to live there.” 

“Ebbene, Teodoro ! the ghost of Lucrezia Borgia ! 
Why does she not marry again ? ” 

“Who knows ! I wouldn’t like to be her husband 
in spite of her money. Corpo di Bacco ! a woman 
who sees in the dark like a cat. ” 

“The evil eye I ” 

“Yes! and everything else that’s wicked. I do 
not like that Signora at all.” 

“Che peccato ! you might marry her.” 

“ Or her money ! Ecco ! ” 

They both laughed, and, the act being ended, left 
their seats. I also went out into the corridor for a 
smoke and a breath of fresh air, feeling deeply sorry 
that this interesting conversation had been inter- 
rupted. From what one of the officers had said she 
was evidently a nyctalopyst, and could see in the 
dark, which accounted at once for the unerring way 
in which she had threaded the dark streets, and 
was also the reason that she now remained secluded 
in the shadow of her box, preferring the darkness to 
the light. Puzzling over these things, and wonder- 
ing how I could get a glimpse of her face, I lighted a 
cigarette and strolled about in the vestibule of the 
theatre with the rest of the crowd. 

There were a goodly number of civilians of all sizes, 
ages, and complexions, while the military element 
was represented by a fair sprinkling of officers in the 
picturesque uniforms of the Italian army. The air 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 85 

was thick with tobacco-smoke there was a clatter 
of vivacious voices, and the great doors of the 
theatre were thrown wide open to admit the fresh 
night air into the overpoweringly hot atmosphere. 
Being wrapt up in my ideas about the Contessa 
Morone and her extraordinary behaviour, I leaned 
against a pillar and took no notice of any one, when 
suddenly a tall officer stopped in front of me and held 
out his hand. 

“ What ! Is it you, Signor Hugo? Gome sta ! ” 
“Beltrami ! You here ! I am surprised ! ” 

“Ma foi,” replied Beltrami, who constantly intro- 
duced French words into his conversation ; “you 
are not so surprised as I am. I thought you 
were in your foggy island, and behold you appear at 
Verona. How did you come here? What are you 
doing? Eh 1 Hugo, tell me all. ” 

I do not think I have mentioned Beltrami before, 
which is curious, considering I have been talking so 
much about Italy and the Italians ; but the fact is, 
my friend the Marchese only now enters into this 
curious story I am relating, so thus being introduced 
in due season I will tell all I know about him. 

During my narrative I fancy I have mentioned 
that I spoke and understood Italian tolerably 
for an Englishman. Well, I did not learn my 
Italian in Italy — no, indeed ! Foggy London saw 
my maiden efforts to acquire that soft bastard Latin 
which Byron talks of, and the Marchese Luigi Bel- 
trami gave me my first lessons in his melodious 


86 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 

language. He had come to England some years be- 
fore with a card of introduction to my father from a 
friend in Florence, and on being introduced to our 
household we had taken a great fancy to One an- 
other. Even in those days, perhaps as a premonitory 
symptom of my Operatic leanings, I was mad on all 
things Italian, and discoursed about art, raved of 
Cimabue and Titian, and quoted Dante, Ariosto, and 
Alfieri until every one of my friends were, I am sure, 
heartily wearied of my enthusiasm. Beltrami ap- 
peared, and feeling flattered by my great admiration 
for his country, advised me to learn Italian. I did 
so, and with his help soon became no mean profi- 
cient in the tongue which the Marchese, being a 
Florentine, spoke very purely. In return I taught 
him English; but either I was a bad master, or 
Beltrami was an idle scholar, for all the English he 
ever learned consisted of two sentences : “You are 
a beautiful miss,” and “I love you,” but with these 
two he got along comparatively well, particularly 
with woman. 

English ladies at first were indignant at this out- 
spoken admiration, but Beltrami was so good-look- 
ing, and apparently so sincere in his use of these 
two English sentences, that they usually ended by 
pardoning him ; nevertheless the Marchese found 
that if he wanted to get on in society he would have 
to moderate his transports. Ultimately, if I re- 
member rightly, he took refuge in French, and said 
a great many pretty things in that very pretty 
tongue. 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 87 

My friend Beltrami and myself were the antithesis 
of one another in character, as he had a great deal 
of the. subtle craft of the old Italian despot about 
him ; yet somehow we got on capitally together, per- 
haps by the law of contrast, and when he returned to 
Italy I was sorry to see the last of him. I promised 
to some day visit him at his palazzo in Florence, 
and fully intended to do so before leaving Italy ; but 
here was Verona, and here, by the intervention of 
chance, ; was the Marchese, as suave, as subtle-faced, 
and as handsome as ever. He appeared to be 
delighted to see me, and as I was a stranger in a 
strange land, I was glad to find at least one familiar 
face. 

In response to his request I told him about the death 
of my father, of my determination to study singing, 
and the circumstances which had led me to Verona, 
to all of which Beltrami listened attentively, and at 
the conclusion of my story shook hands with me 
again. 

“Ebbene ! my friend Hugo, I am glad to see you 
in our Italy. As you see, I serve the King and am 
stationed in his dismal palace, so while you are here 
I will make things pleasant. Ecco !” 

“No, no! my dear Marchese, I know what you 
mean by making things pleasant. I have come here 
to work, not to play.” 

“ Dame, mon ami ! too much work is bad.” 

“Eh, Marchese, and too much play is worse ; but tell 
me how have you been since I saw you last ? ” 


88 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT. 


“Oh, just the same; lam as poor as ever, but 
soon I will be rich !” 

“Bravo, Beltrami! Is your uncle, the Cardinal, 
dead?” 

“My uncle, the Cardinal, is immortal,” replied the 
Marchese cynically. “ No, he still lives in the hope 
to succeed to the Fisherman’s Chair. I am going to 
be married!” 

“I congratulate you.” 

“Eh, Hugo, I think you will when you see the 
future Marchesa ! She is in the theatre to-night. I am 
engaged to marry her, and as she takes my friends for 
her own, come with me and I will introduce you.” 

I drew back, as I wanted to watch the Contessa 
Morone, and if I went to Beltrami’s box I would per- 
haps lose sight of her. 

“You must excuse me, Signor Luigi, because — be- 
cause you see I am not in evening dress.” 

It was the best excuse I could think of, but, being 
a very weak one, Beltrami laughed, and, slipping his 
arm into mine, dragged me along the corridor. 

“ Sapristi ! you talk like a child. You are my friend. 
Signora Morone will be delighted to see you. She 
adores the English.” 

“ Madame Morone ! ” I exclaimed, thunderstruck. 

“Yes, the Contessa ! Do you know her by sight ? 
Mon Dieu ! is she not beautiful? You shall speak the 
English to her. She loves your foggy islanders. ” 

I was so bewildered by the chance thrown in my 
way of finding out if the Contessa Morone had any- 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT $9 

thing to do with the burial-ground episode, that I only- 
replied to Beltrami’s chatter by an uneasy laugh, and 
suffered myself to be led unresistingly along. 

The Marchese did not take me into the box itself, 
but into one of those small ante-rooms, on the op- 
posite side of the corridor, which are used by Italian 
ladies as reception saloons for their friends when at 
the theatre. I heard the loud chatter of many voices 
as Beltrami opened the door, and there, standing 
under the glare of the gas-lamp, with the wicked 
smile on her lips, the pearls in her hair, the ruby 
necklace round her throat, I saw the woman who 
had come from the vault, the woman who had 
poisoned Pallanza in the secret room, the phantom 
of Lucrezia Borgia. 


9 ° 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT \ 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE PHANTOM OF LUCREZIA BORGIA. 

I was duly introduced by the Marchese, and Sig- 
nora Morone received me in the most amiable man- 
ner. She was certainly a very charming woman, and 
had I not known her true character, I would doubt- 
less have been fascinated by her gracious affability ; 
but, in spite of her courtesy, I could hardly speak to 
her without a feeling of repulsion. This beautiful 
woman, so suave, so smiling, so seductive, inspired 
me with that sensation of absolute dread which one 
experiences at the sight of a sleek, vel veb footed 
pantheress — a comely beast to admire, but a terrible 
one to caress. I replied to her polite inquiries in a 
somewhat mechanical fashion, which she doubtless 
put down to my imperfect knowledge of Italian, for 
in spite of all my efforts to feel at ease in her society, 
yet I was unable to do more than behave with 
strained courtesy towards this woman whose mask I 
had torn off, whose secret I had penetrated, and the 
wickedness of whose heart I knew. 

There were several other gentlemen in the room, 
who talked gaily with the Contessa, and amused 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


91 

themselves by eating the bonbons and crystallised 
fruits provided for refreshments. The last act of the 
opera had not yet commenced, so Signora Morone 
sank gracefully into a velvet-cushioned chair, and 
permitted her courtiers to retail all the news of the 
day for her amusement. I am afraid this description 
sounds somewhat hyperbolical, but indeed it is the 
only way in which I can describe this woman, whose 
every movement was full of sinuous grace and feline 
treachery. Cat t dgress. pantheress as she was, her 
claws were nowsKeatfletTTn her velvet paws, but 
the claws were there all the same, and would doubt- 
less scratch at the least provocation. 

Some people do not believe in transmigration, but 
I am a true disciple of Pythagoras in that bizarre 
doctrine, and I firmly believe that in a former exist- 
ence the soul of Giulietta Morone had animated the 
body of some tawny tigeress who had stolen through 
the jungle beneath the burning skies of Hindostan, 
slaying and devouring her victims in conformity with 
the instincts of her savage nature. Now she was a 
woman- — a fair, majestic woman — but the instinct of 
the beast was there, the desire for slaughter and the 
lust for blood. What made me indulge still more in 
this fancy was the colours of the dress she wore 
black and yellow — all twisted in and out with a curi- 
ous resemblance to the sleek fur of the beast to which I 
had likened her. The soft glimmer of the pearl strings 
twined in her magnificent red hair seemed out of place 
as ornaments for this woman ; but the rubies suited 


92 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


her nature well, the red, angry rubies that shot flashes 
of purple fire from her neck at every heave of her 
white bosom. Leaning back in her deep chair with a 
cruel smile on her full crimson lips, the glimmer of 
pearls, the fire-glint of the fierce-tinted gems, and the 
bizarre mixture of amber and black in her dress, she 
slowly waved her sandalwood fan to and fro, diffusing 
a strange, sleepy perfume through the room,, and 
looking what I verily believed her to be, the type of 
incarnate evil in repose. 

While I was thinking in this fanciful fashion, the 
Contessa was talking to her friends in a slow, rich 
voice, and Beltrami— well, Beltrami was watching me 
closely. Do you know that strange sensation of being 
watched ? that uneasy consciousness that some un- 
seen eye is observing the least movement ? Yes, of 
course you do ! Every one has felt it, in a more or 
less degree, according to their nervous susceptibility. 
At the present time, with all my senses on the alert 
for unexpected events, it was therefore little to be won- 
dered at that I felt the magnetism of Beltrami s gaze, 
and, on looking up, saw his keen black eyes fixed 
upon me with an enigmatical expression. For the 
moment I was startled, but immediately that feeling 
passed away for I well knew the strange nature of 
the Marchese, which was a peculiar mixture of good 
and evil, of kindness and cruelty, of hate and love, which 
must have proceeded from some aberration of his 
subtle intellect. 

Beltrami’s face always put me in mind of that 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


93 

sinister countenance of Sigismondo Malatesta, which 
sneers so malevolently at the curious onlooker from the 
walls of the Duomo at Rimini. He had the same treach- 
erous droop of the eyelids, the same thin nose with 
wide, sensitive nostrils, and the same malignant smile 
on his thin lips. Yet he was handsome enough, this 
young Italian ; but his face, in spite of my friendship, 
'repelled me — in a less degree, it is true, but still it re- 
pelled me in the like manner as did that of the Contessa 
Morone. So he was going to marry her. Well, they 
were certainly well-matched in every respect, and if 
the man had not the active wickedness of the woman, 
still the capability of evil was there, and would awaken 
to life when necessary to be exercised. Both Beltrami 
and his future wife were ana chronisms in this nine- 
teenth century, and should have lived, smiled, and 
died in the time of the Renaissance, when they would 
have been fitted companions of those Italian despots 
of whom Macchiavelli gives the typical examples in 
his book ‘ ‘ T he Princ e. ” 

The Marchese saw my inquiring look, and with an 
enigmatic smile walked across to where I was stand- 
ing in the warm, yellow light. 

“Ebbene! Signor Hugo,” he whispered, with a 
swift glance at the Contessa, ‘‘tell me what you think 
of my choice.” 

“It does you credit, Marchese. You will have a 
beautiful wife.” 

“And a loving one, I hope. Tell me, mon ami, do 
you not envy me ? ” 


94 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 

I hesitated a moment before replying, and then 
blurted out the truth, — 

“ Honestly speaking, Signor Luigi, I do not ! ” 

“ Dame ! and why ? ” 

“Well, I can hardly tell you my reasons, but I have 
them, nevertheless. ” 

Beltrami looked hard at me with an inquisitive 
look in his dark eyes, and a satirical smile on his thin 
lips. 

“You are not complimentary, my friend, ” he said, 
turning away with a supercilious laugh. 

I laid my hand on his shoulder and explained, — 

“Pardon me, Beltrami, you do not understand '* 

“Eh ! do not apologise ! I understand better than 
you think.” 

He was evidently not at all offended, and I felt 
puzzled by his manner. It was true he had candidly 
acknowledged that he was making this marriage for 
money, but surely he must also love this woman, 
whose ripe beauty was so attractive to the passionate 
nature of the Italians. Yet, judging from his mode of 
speech, he evidently had some mistrust — a mistrust 
for which I could not account. He could know 
nothing of the affair at the Palazzo Morone, so there 
certainly could be no reason for suspicion on his part. 
She was a beautiful woman, a rich woman, an attrac- 
tive woman, so with this trinity of perfections she 
decidedly merited a warmer love than Beltrami 
appeared inclined to give her. Could it be that her 
evil beauty repelled him, as it did me ? No ! that was 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


95 

impossible, seeing that, according to my idea, their 
natures were wonderfully alike. Altogether the whole 
demeanour of the Marchesa perplexed me by its 
strangeness, and I watched him narrowly as he ap- 
proached the Contessa, to see if she perceived the lack 
of warmth on the part of her lover. 

To my surprise, as he bent over her chair to speak, 
she shrank away with a gesture of disdain, and the 
rubies shot forth a red flame, as if to warn the lover that 
there was danger in pressing upon this woman his 
unwelcome attentions. Unwelcome, I am sure they 
were, for as he adjusted her cloak and aided her to rise, 
in order to return to the box, I saw that she accepted 
all his politeness with forced civility and cold smiles. 
So then she did not love him — he had almost openly 
acknowledged to me that he did not love her, and yet 
these two people, who had no feeling of love in their 
hearts, were about to marry. It was most extraor- 
dinary, and I marvelled greatly at the juxtaposition of 
these two human beings, who evidently hated one 
another heartily. 

At this moment the Contessa spoke of the man she 
had murdered, and I was horrified in the cold, callous 
tones in which she veiled her iniquity. 

.“Do you know, gentlemen, if anything has been 
heard of this lost tenor? ” 

Beltrami shot a keen glance at her, then a second 
at me, and I felt more bewildered than ever by this 
strange action. 

“ Nothing has been heard of him, Contessa,” he said 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


96 

quickly, before the others could speak; “he has 
vanished altogether, but no doubt he will appear 
again.” 

“ Ah, you think so ? ” observed the Contessa, with a 
cruel smile. 

“I am sure of it ! ” 

She winced, and looked at him in a startled manner, 
upon which, impelled by some mysterious impulse, I 
know not what, I joined in the conversation, — 

“On the contrary, madam e, I do not think Signor 
Pallanza will ever be seen again.” 

All present turned round in surprise, and the Con- 
tessa darted a look at me which seemed to pierce 
my soul. Only Beltrami was unmoved, and he, 
with a smile on his face, laid his hand upon my 
shoulder. 

“Eh, Signor Hugo, and why do you think so? ” 

“A mere fancy, Marchese, nothing more.” 

“Ma foi ! and a fancy that may turn out true ! ” 

I was annoyed at having yielded to the impulse and 
spoken, out, as, unless I told all about my adventure, 
I could not substantiate my statement, and I was cer- 
tainly not going to reveal anything I knew, particularly 
in the presence of the woman so deeply implicated in 
the affair. Beltrami's mocking manner irritated me 
fearfully, the more so as it was so very unaccountable, 
and I was about to make some sharp reply, when the 
opening chorus of the last act sounded, and all the 
gentlemen, after making their adieux to the Contessa, 
left the room. 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


97 

The Marchese offered his arm to Madame Morone, 
but she dismissed him with a haughty gesture. 

“One moment, Marchese — I wish to speak with this 
Signor for a few minutes. ” 

Beltrami darted one of his enigmatic looks at us both, 
and with a low bow to conceal the smile on his lips, 
left the room. As soon as he had disappeared, Madame 
Morone turned round on me with a quick gesture of 
surprise. 

“Signor Hugo, why did you say the tenor Pallanza 
would never be seen again ? ” 

“I have no reason, Signora/’ I replied, being deter- 
mined to baffle her curiosity ; “ I merely spoke on the 
impulse of the moment.” 

* ‘ Do you know Signor Pallanza ? ” 

“No, madame, I have not the pleasure of his ac- 
quaintance. ” 

“Ah!” 

She heaved a sigh of relief, ancl looked at me long 
and earnestly, as if to see whether I was speaking the 
truth. Apparently she was satisfied with her scru- 
tiny, for she laughed softly, and placed her hand 
within my arm. 

“Confess now, Signor Hugo, you think me most 
mysterious, but I will tell you why I speak thus. I 
heard Pallanza at Rome, when he sang at the Apollo, 
and I hoped to see him again here, therefore I am 
annoyed at his disappearance and anxious for him to 
be found. A selfish wish, Signor Hugo, for it is only 
my desire to hear him sing again. Ecco ! ” 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


98 

“ I do not think your wish at all selfish, madam e, 
for I hear he is a charming singer. ” 

“ Oh, yes ! the New Mario they call him in Milan. 
Will you not hear the rest of the opera in my box? ” 
“If you will excuse me, madame, I will say no, as 
I have an engagement. ” 

This was a lie, but I was so fearful of betraying 
myself to this terrible woman, who had evidently a 
half-suspicion that I knew something of Pallanza, that 
I was anxious to get away as soon as possible. She, 
saying good-night'iii a cold, polite manner, re-entered 
the box, and I was moving away when Beltrami sud- 
denly appeared. 

“Eh, Hugo, how cruel! the Contessa tells me 
you must go ? ” 

“ Yes. I will see you again, Marchese ! ” 
“To-morrow then ; if not, the next day. Here is 
my card, and I am always at home in the afternoon/ 
Do not fail to come, mon ami — I wish to speak to 
you about — about — ” 

He paused, and I asked curiously, — 

“About what?” 

“Eh, dame ! I forget. I will tell you at our next 
meeting’ A rivederci ! Signor Hugo. Don’t forget 
your old friend, or he will quarrel with you. ” 

He nodded, smiled, and vanished, then I took my 
departure from the theatre, and wandered up and 
down the street in the moonlight. I felt that to sit 
out the ballet would be more than I could bear, as I 
was so excited over the meeting with the Contessa 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 99 

Morone, therefore I strolled up and down the street, 
smoking and thinking. As time passed on I grew 
calmer, and thought I would return to the Ezzelino, 
not to see the ballet, but to catch a glimpse of the 
Contessa once more. 

As I reached the portico of the theatre she was just 
coming down the steps to her carriage, leaning on 
the arm of Beltrami, and I, hidden in thecrpwd, could 
see: her looking hither and thither as if searching for 
some one. She could not see me, and in order to 
satisfy myself in every way as to her identity with the 
creature of the night I had seen leave the graveyard, 
with a sudden inspiration I hummed a few bars of the 
strange song I had heard in the fatal chamber. 

Being close to me she could hear quite plainly, apd 
gave a kind of gasping cry as she fell back into the 
arms of Beltrami, just as he was helping her into the 
carriage. . , . 

“ What is the matter, cara ? ” he asked quickly. 

She clutched his arm with so powerful a grasp that 
it made him wince, and I heard her mutter with white 
lips,— 

“ Pallanza ! Pallanza ! ” 

This was all I wanted to hear, and, fearful of dis- 
covery, I threaded my way quickly among the crowd,, 
and hastened home to my hotel. 

I had recognised Guiseppe, I had found the woman 
who had slain him, but I. had yet to discover where 
she had hidden the body of her victim — and then ! — 
well, my future movements would be guided by 
circumstances. 


100 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGH7. 


CHAPTER IX. 

FIORE DELLA CASA. 

I did not get much sleep that night after the excite- 
ments of the day, but towards the morning fell into 
an uneasy slumber, during which I had fragmentary 
dreams in which Pallanza the Contessa, and the an- 
tique chamber were all mixed up together. One mo- 
ment I was at the iron door of the tomb, and the 
guardian angel took the semblance of Signora Morone ; 
the next I was kneeling beside the corpse of Pallanza, 
illuminated by the faint light of the candles ; and I ever 
saw the pallid shade of Donna Renata pointing to- 
wards the watchful face of her husband, filled with 
ghastly meanings in the dim shadows. No wonder, 
after these terrific visions which blended the real and 
the ideal, I awoke in the grey morning light unre- 
freshed and haggard ; so when the waiter brought 
me my roll and coffee I left them untouched, and, 
lying quietly in bed, wondered what step it was neces- 
sary to take next in solving this riddle. 

Riddle do I say ? No ! it was a riddle no longer, 
save as to the visit of the Contessa to the vault of 
her family, for otherwise everything was clear enough. 
She had met Pallanza at Rome, and had fallen in love 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT i 0 l 

with his handsome face. The young man, flattered 
by the attentions of a great lady, had yielded readily 
enough to the charm of the situation, but, growing 
tired of the intrigue, had come to Verona, where 
Bianca awaited him, with the intention of breaking it 
off. With a woman of Giulietta Morone’s fiery nature 
the sequel can easily be guessed — she had followed 
him hither, and having in some way forced him to 
come to the deserted palace, had there poisoned him 
out of revenge for his contemplated infidelity. 

Of course, this was all theoretical, but from one 
thing and another I guessed that this could be the only 
feasible way of accounting for the whole affair. Two 
points, however, remained to be cleared up before 
the reading of the riddle could be successfully accom- 
plished : the first being the reason of the burial-ground 
episode, the second the strange disappearance of the 
dead man’s body. 

In thinking over the legend related by Peppino, 
one thing struck me as peculiar — that Donna Renata 
had never been seen again after her husband entered 
the chamber, and I guessed from this that there was 
some secret oubliette or alcove in the room, with a 
concealed entrance in which Mastino Morone had 
entombed his guilty wife as a punishment for her 
crimes. Doubtless, from tradition or from old family 
papers, Madame Morone knew of this secret hiding- 
place, and having killed Pallanza, had put his body 
therein so as to destroy all evidences of her crimi- 
nality. No one had seen Pallanza enter this deserted 


102 


A CREA TURE OF THE AUGHT. 


palace, so once his body was hidden in the secret 
alcove it would remain there for ever undiscovered, 
and no human being, save the Contessa herself, could 
ever tell what had become of him. She, for her own 
sake, would remain silent, and thus Guiseppe Pal- 
lanza's fate would remain a mystery for evermore. 

Fortunately, however, God, who had thus permitted 
this evil woman to conceive and carry out her crime, 
had also permitted me to behold the murder, so that, 
secure as she no doubt felt of her safety, yet one 
word from me and the whole affair would be revealed. 
I never thought, however, of going to the Veronese 
police and telling them what I had seen, as in their 
suspicions of foreigners they would doubtless regard 
me as an accessory, and thus I would get myself into 
trouble, which I had no desire to do. I therefore 
determined to once more go to the fatal chamber and 
make a final effort to discover what had become 
of the body of the unfortunate Pallanza. 

So far so good, but' now the question arose. How 
much of this story was I to reveal to Bianca? I could 
not tell her the whole, for if the body of her loter 
were discovered, the poor child would suffer quite 
enough without the additional information of Gui- 
seppe’s infidelity ; so, making a virtue of necessity, I 
determined upon telling her a pious lie. To do this 
it was necessary to leave out the Contessa Morone 
altogether, as the least mention of a woman's name 
would arose Bianca's suspicions, and for the Contessa 
I substituted a robber, who had decoyed Guiseppe to 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


103 

the deserted palace by means of a false letter, and 
there ended his life. Of course it was somewhat 
difficult to be consistent in the narrative ; but I was 
so anxious to hide the cruel truth of Pallanza’s worth- 
lessness from Bianca that I went over the story I had 
invented, again and again, until I thought I had the 
whole pious fraud quite perfect. 

Having thus arranged my plans, I arose, finished 
my roll and coffee, then, having dressed myself 
rapidly, set off at once for the Casa Angello, as it was 
nearly time for my lesson. All my bruises were now 
quite well, yet I felt very depressed and downcast, as 
the state of nervous excitement which I had been in 
for the last few days had told terribly on my system. 
However, having once put my hand to the plough I 
could not, with satisfaction to myself, turn back ; and 
although I heartily dreaded the coming interview with 
Bianca, yet it was unavoidable, as the poor child was 
so anxious over her lost lover that it was necessary 
to tell my fictitious story without delay in order to set 
her mind at rest. 

On my arrival at the Casa Angello I found no one 
there but Bianca, who was anxiously awaiting me. 
It appeared that the Maestro had taken it into his head 
that he would like a walk in the sunshine, and had 
gone out under the care of Petronella ; but, as Bianca 
knew I was coming to take my usual lesson, and was 
anxious to hear if I had any news of her lover, she 
remained indoors to speak to me. 

The “Fiore della Casa,” as old Petronella tenderly 


I0 4 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

called her in the poetic language of the Italians, looked 
even paler than usual, and the dark shadows under 
her dark eyes made them appear wonderfully large 
and star-like. She had a bunch of delicate lilies-of- 
the-valley in the bosom of her white dress, and she 
looked as pale and blanched as the frail flowers them- 
selves. Lying back on the green-covered sofa on 
which she was seated, she reminded me of a late 
snowflake resting on the emerald grass of early spring, 
which at any moment might vanish under the pale 
rays of the sun. 

We were talking together in the room in which I 
generally had my lessons, and my eyes wandered 
from one thing to another with vague hesitation as I 
looked everywhere but on the face of this delicate 
girl to whom I had to tell such a cruel story— for, 
soften it as I might, the story was cruel and could not 
fail to affect her terribly. Every object in the apart- 
ment photographed itself on my memory with terrible 
distinctness, and, even after the lapse of years, by 
simply closing my eyes I can recall the whole scene 
with the utmost truthfulness. The dull red of the 
terra-cotta floor, the heavy time-worn furniture, 
covered with faded green rep, the small ebony piano 
with its glistening white keys alternating with the 
black, the mirror-fronted press in which Petronella 
kept everything from food to clothes, the many photo- 
graphs of operatic celebrities, and the gaudily painted 
picture of St. Paul, the Maestro's patron saint, encircled 
by a faded wreath of withered laurel-leaves and dead 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT, 


105 

flowers, flung to some favourite pupil in her hour of 
triumph. Even the view from the window I can 
recall, with the slender campanile tower, from whence 
every quarter rang the brazen bells, and then the 
faltering voice of Bianca, “Fiore della Casa,” stealing 
like a melancholy wind through the silence of the 
room. 

“Signor ! ” she said, twisting her thin white hands 
nervously together, “you have something to tell me 
of Guiseppe. I can see it in your face — is it good or 
evil?” 

“What does my face tell you, Signorina? ” 

“Evil, evil! your eyes are sad, your mouth does 
not smile ! Oh, tell me quickly what you know ! Is 
he found? is he ill? is he — dead?” 

She brought out the last word in a shrill scream, 
with dilated eyes that almost terrified me by the fear 
expressed in them, and, dreading the effect of a sudden 
shock on this fragile child, I hastily replied in the 
negative. 

“No, Signorina, no! Do not look so fearful, I 
pray you. He is not dead. Child, I am sure he is 
not dead ! ” 

“ Then you have not found him yet ? ” 

“No; I have not found him, but I think I know 
where he is to be found.” 

“What do you mean, Signor Hugo, tell me all — 
tell me all. See, I am strong, I can bear it — I wish 
to know everything.” 

“Signorina, the note which Guiseppe Pallanza re- 


to6 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

ceived at the Ezzelino was not from a friend but from 
an enemy.” 

“ An enemy ! ” 

“ Yes ! from one who wished him ill. Thinking it 
was from his dying friend, he obeyed the letter and 
was lured to the deserted Palazzo Morone.” 

“ I do not know that palazzo, Signor. I am a 
stranger in Verona.” 

“ I know where it is, Signorina, for on that night I 
was wandering about near it, when I saw Pallanza go 
into it alone. Knowing the evil reputation of the 
place, I followed him, although he was a stranger to 
me. He went to a room in the palace where his 
enemy met him, and — and ” 

“Yes! yes, Signor — for the love of the Saints, go 
on.” 

“lean tell you no more, Signorina, except that I 
do not believe Guiseppe left that room again. I 
believe he is there still, perhaps held captive by the 
robber who lured him thither in the hope of obtaining 
a ransom.” 

Bianca looked at me searchingly. She was a simple 
little thing as a rule, but this ridiculous story I had 
manufactured of brigands in the heart of Verona was 
too much even for her confiding nature, and she made 
a gesture of disbelief. 

“ It is not true ! it is not true ! ” she cried vehemently. 
“Why do you deceive me, Signor?” 

“ I am not deceiving you.” 

“An enemy ! a false letter ! a deserted palace ! held 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


107 

captive ! Oh, I cannot believe it. If it is true, why 
did you not rescue him ? ” 

“Because some one I do not know seized me from 
behind as I watched, and, rendering me insensible 
with chloroform, bore me away from the palace. I 
had great difficulty in finding it again, I assure you.” 

“Signor, your story is that of a dream. I cannot 
believe you.” 

“ It is true, nevertheless.” 

Bianca said nothing, but tapped her little foot on 
the ground with a thoughtful frown on her small face. 
I was glad that my task was over, for absurd as was 
the story I had told her, it was more merciful than 
the truth. Now that I had to some extent quieted her 
fears by telling her that Guiseppe was alive — a thing, 
alas ! that I could not be certain of myself — I hoped 
to get away at once to the Palazzo Morone and make 
one last effort to find his body. If I failed there would 
be nothing left for me to do but to inform the police, 
and in the interests of Bianca I was unwilling to do 
this until I had exhausted every means of solving the 
mystery myself. 

Suddenly Bianca's face cleared, and she looked at 
me with steady determination. 

“ Signor, you know this palazzo ? ” 

“Yes, Signorina.” 

“And this room where you think Guiseppe is held 
captive ? ” 

“I do, Signorina.” 

“ Then take me to it at once.” 


108 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

She started to her feet with a deep flush on her face, 
and threw out her hands towards me with an appeal- 
ing gesture. As for me, I sat still, transfixed with 
astonishment at the spirit displayed by this gentle 
girl, who was thus willing to dare the dangers, of the 
unknown in order to save her lover. 

“Take me to it at once \ ” she repeated quickly. 

“ Signorina, I — I cannot. You are mad to think of 
such a thing.” 

“ Is your story true or false, Signor Hugo ? ” 

“ True ! yes, it is true ! ” 

“ Then I will judge of its truth myself — with my 
own eyes. Wait, I will put on my hat, and you will 
take me to this palazzo at once.” 

“Signorina ” 

“Not another word, I have made up my mind. 
You promised to be my friend, Signor Hugo. I hold 
you to that promise. Ecco ! ” 

She was gone before I could utter further remon- 
etrance, and during her absence I reflected rapidly. 
It was true that Guiseppe was dead, that I believed his 
body was concealed somewhere in that room, so per- 
haps after all it was best that Bianca should come, as 
her quick woman’s wit might succeed where I had 
failed. She knew nothing about the implication of 
the Contessa Morone in the affair, the palazzo would 
be quite deserted during the daytime, so I would be 
able to take her there, let her examine the room, and 
if by chance the truth was revealed that Guiseppe was 
dead, it would be a more merciful way than by the 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


109 


lips of a stranger. Yes, I would take her there at once. 
If we failed in our mission she would be no wiser than 
before, but if we succeeded — ah ! how I pitied the 
poor child if we succeeded in finding out the terrible 
secret of the Contessa. At this moment she returned 
trembling with ill-suppressed excitement. 

“Well, Signor Hugo, are you ready — are you will- 
ing to help me ? ” 

“With all my heart, Signorina.” 

“ Ebbene ! come, then.” 

She ran lightly out of the room, and I followed with 
a heavy heart, for I had a presentiment of evil. I 
feared that fatal chamber, which held so many impure 
memories — I feared the discovery of the dead — I feared 
for this child who went forward in ignorance to face 
such horrors. 


no 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


CHAPTER X. 

A VOICE IN THE DARKNESS. 

On returning from my last visit to the palace I had 
carefully noted the way thereto, so I was able to es- 
cort Signorina Angello without calling in the services 
of Peppino. I was unwilling to drive there, as the 
presence of a fiacre even in that deserted piazza might 
be noticed, and I did not want any comment made 
by the scandal-loving Italian populace on our visit to 
this out-of-the-way locality. So in company with 
Bianca, who had put on a veil, and who said nothing 
to me from the time we left Casa Angello, being ap- 
parently occupied with her own reflections, I walked 
down the gloomy, narrow streets towards that terrible 
Palazzo Morone, the very idea of which inspired me 
with horror and dismay. 

It was one of those burning days common to that 
time of the year in Italy, and much as I despised and 
cursed those drain-like alleys in wet weather, yet I 
now saw there was method in the madness of their 
style of building, for their cool shadow and humid 
atmosphere was wonderfully pleasant after the glare, 
the dust, and heat of the great piazza. We walked on 
the broad carriage-way, which was less painful to the 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. \ \ \ 

feet than the cobble-stone paving between, and every 
now and then saw some typical picture of Italian life. 
A dark-faced woman with a red handkerchief twisted 
carelessly round her head, leaning from a high balcony, 
on the iron railings of which was displayed the family 
washing ; a purple cloud of wisteria blooming in some 
pergola near the red roof-tops ; sleek grey donkeys 
laden with panniers, stepping complacently along the 
narrow way ; slender Italian men presiding over fruit- 
stalls, piled high with their picturesque contents ; and 
over all, the vivacious clatter and din of voices, struck 
through at times with the sharp, metallic notes of the 
mandolin. It was very charming, and, I would have 
enjoyed it thoroughly, artistically speaking, had it not 
been for the local odours. Oh, the smells of those 
picturesque streets ! they were too terrible for descrip- 
tion ; and how the Italians are not swept off the face 
of the earth by a plague of typhoid is more than I can 
understand. I smoked cigarettes most of the time, as 
a preventive against infection ; but on beholding ideal 
paintings of Italian scenes, I always shudder at the 
memory of the malodorous reality, and on arriving in 
well-drained London again, my first prayer was one 
of thanks for having escaped from ill-smelling Italy. 

My thoughts during this portentous walk were, I am 
afraid, rather frivolous ; but so fearful had been the 
strain on my nerves for the past few days, that it was 
a great relief to think idly of anything and any one. 
Not so Bianca ; even through her veil I could see the 
glisten of tears, and catch the sound of her quick in- 


112 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 

drawn breath as she strove to fight down the emotion 
that threatened to overwhelm her. I saw that the poor 
child was nearly hysterical with her efforts to control 
herself, and stopped short in dismay. 

“ Signorina, you are not well. Do not go to this 
palazzo.” 

“ Yes, yes! I must, Signor Hugo. I cannot pass 
another night in this state of suspense. I must know 
all, and at once. Is the Palazzo Morone far off?” 

“We are just at it, Signorina.” 

And so we were ; for at that moment we entered the 
silent, grass-grown square, at the end of which stood 
the palazzo, looking gruesome even in the sunshine, 
with its broken windows, damp, disfigured walls, and 
general air of weird solitude. Some swallows were 
shooting through the still air and twittering round the 
rich sculptures of the facade, but their merry chirpings 
only added to the eerie feeling inspired by the great 
mansion — a feeling which I noticed thrilled Bianca 
with fear as she paused shuddering, under the grinning 
masks and unlovely faces peering downward from 
the arched entrance. 

“Oh, how could he come to this terrible place at 
night ! ” she cried, crossing herself, with a look of fear 
in her eyes. “Desolate as it is in the sun, what must 
it be when the moon shines ! It is an abode of the 
dead — a tomb — a tomb ! Dio ! his tomb.” 

“ Signorina, do not affright yourself thus ! Things 
may not be so bad as you think. ” 

“It is like the Inferno of Dante ! and turns my 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT. 


1 *3 

blood cold with fear ; but I will not go back ! I must 
find Guiseppe, even if it cost me my life. Come, 
Signor, presto! there is no time to lose/' 

She crossed herself once more, then flitted through 
the opening in the iron gate like a noiseless-winged 
bird, upon which I hastily followed her, and we stood 
for a moment in the lonely courtyard, gazing at the 
great portals of the door leading to the hall, which 
stood half-open. 

“Signorina, I will lead you to the room. You are 
not afraid ? You do not tremble ? ” 

“Ah ! I am afraid, and I do tremble, Signor, for I 
am only a girl ; but lead on, love will make me strong, 
and you will protect me. Give me your hand, Signor ; 
I am not afraid when I hold your hand." 

With a fleeting smile on her pale lips, she placed 
her hand in mine, and as I grasped its cold whiteness, 
I guessed how terrified this delicate, superstitious girl 
was of this unholy place. But for the resolute look 
on her pallid face, I would have insisted upon her 
turning back ; but it was useless to urge retreat now, 
so with the name “Guiseppe ! Guiseppe!” on her 
lips, as if to inspire her with courage, she almost 
dragged me through the half-closed door into the hall 
of shadows. 

“Ah ! Mother Mary, it is like a church ! ” 

It was like a church — like some old deserted church, 
filled with the chill atmosphere of the grave ; and the 
slow movement of the wind-shaken tapestries, the 
glimmer of the ghostly white stairs in the dim distance, 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT. 


114 

and the solemnity of the huge pillars of black marble, 
made me think of those God-cursed cities * of the 
“Thousand and One Nights,” whose silence is only 
broken by the voice of the one survivor chanting the 
melancholy verses of the Koran. Bianca, overpowered 
by this mute spectacle of a dead past, clung con- 
vulsively to my arm with faltering prayers on her 
lips, and I became afraid lest, by a feeling of sym- 
pathy, her terror should unnerve me also, so with a 
cheerful laugh, which echoed dismally through the 
vast vestibule, I led her onward towards the grand 
staircase. 

. “Gome, Signorina, do not be afraid. You are quite 
safe with me. ” 

“Yes, yes! Guiseppe! Guiseppe!” 

We slowly ascended . the staircase, gained the 
corridor, and at length arrived at the second flight of 
shallow steps leading to the secret room. Here 
Bianca, seeing the darkness, nearly fainted with 
nervous fear, for, deeply imbued with grim Italian 
superstitions, she beheld unseen terrors in every 
shadowy corner. I again wanted her to return, but 
with wilful obstinacy she refused, so, aS I luckily had 
a pocket-flask of brandy with me, I made her take a 
little to revive her. The fiery spirit put new life into 
her sinking limbs, and, after lighting my candle as 
usual, I led her up the steps, through the short corridor, 
through the tapestried ante-chamber, until at last we 
stood in the fatal room. 

“ Here, Signor Hugo ! " 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 115 

“Yes!” 

She flung back her veil with a feverish gesture, and 
peered into the darkness, which was hardly broken 
by the feeble light of the small candle I carried. 
Suddenly a thought struck me which I at once put 
into execution, and lighted all the tapers yet remain- 
ing in the candelabra on the table. To the darkness 
succeeded a blaze of mellow light, and Bianca, with 
a look of surprise on her face, gazed round the singular 
room with the white pillars, the ominous blood-red 
hangings, and the banquet of the dead set forth with 
such splendid display on the gilt table. 

4 ‘ What a strange room ! ” she said timidly. 4 ‘ Signor 
Hugo ! what does it mean?” 

“ I have told you all I know, Signorina. Your lover 
was lured to this room.- I saw him pass through that 
door, and then I was drugged as I have said. ” 

“ You did not then see who received him here? ” 

“ No ! I did not” 

The first part of the lie was difficult to utter on 
account of a choking feeling in my throat, ‘but the 
last sentence came out with tolerable grace. 

“And you do not think Guiseppe left this room 
again ? ” 

“ I’m afraid not, Signorina !” 

“Then, where can he be?'” she asked with an 
anxious look around. 

“I think he is concealed in some secret cell, the 
entrance to which is from this apartment.” 

“Oh, Signor Hugo, let us look for it at once.” 


n6 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

“ Certainly ! ” 

“ A meal on the table — all this gold and silver. It 
is a robbers’ cave, Signor. ” 

“ Y — es — I suppose so ! ” 

'"Come, let us be quick then, or the robbers may 
arrive.” 

She looked nervously towards the door, but I, 
taking a candle off the table, reassured her with a gay 
laugh, — 

“ Do not be afraid, Signorina. No one comes here 
during the day.” 

“ Hush ! what is that ? ” 

Infected by her terror my heart gave a jump, and I 
listened intently, but could hear no sound. 

“It is nothing, Signorina. Your nerves are un- 
strung ! ” 

“No ! No ! I can hear it. Some one is coming. 
Listen ! ” 

In order to humour her fancy I remained silent 
with all my senses on the alert, and with a feeling of 
dread I heard the sound. The light fall of footsteps, 
the rustle of a silken dress — a dress ! — the full horror 
of the situation rushed on me at once. 

It must be the Contessa Morone ! ” 

In a moment I had blown out all the candles, and, 
dragging Bianca with me, retreated in the darkness to 
the far end of the room. The girl gave a little cry as 
the lights disappeared, but I pressed her hand signifi- 
cantly. 

“ Hush, Signorina. Not a word ! ” 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. \ x y 

At the time I heard the steps they were at the door 
of the ante-chamber, where the new-comer was evi- 
dently pausing a moment, and as the curtains of the 
inner room had been half drawn aside on our entrance, 
it was for this reason we had heard them so clearly. 
The steps recommenced. I heard their soft, light fall 
on the marble floor, the rustle of the silken gown, 
like the sound of dry leaves in an autumnal wind, and 
then I felt that this woman was standing in the arched 
doorway, looking straight at myself and the shrinking 
girl through the darkness. 

“ Why are you here, Signor Hugo, and who is that 
woman ? ” 

It was the voice of the Contessa, and I gave a cry 
of horror as I suddenly remembered how ineffectual 
the darkness was to conceal us from the eyes of this 
nyctalopist. Bianca, however, knew nothing of this 
woman, or of her gift of seeing in the dark ; so, over- 
come with fear at the demoniac power she believed 
the unknown possessed, she gave a shriek of terror 
and sank fainting at my feet. 

“What does this mean?” 

Again the voice of the Contessa sounded cruel and 
menacing in its tones ; so feeling myself at a disadvan- 
tage in the dark, through not possessing the terrible 
attribute of this woman, I staggered forward and 
lighted the candles. At once out of the gloom sprang 
that evil face with a frown on the white brow, a 
deadly glitter in the cruel eyes, and an ominous 
tightening of the thin lips. 


1 1 8 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

I don’t think I can call myself a coward, but at that 
moment my blood ran cold at the horror of that 
Medusa-like countenance, and I stood before this 
phantom of Lucrezia Borgia as if turned into stone, 
unable to move or speak. 

The Contessa moved forward to the table and looked 
at me steadily, with a wicked smile frozen on her red 
lips. 

“You do not reply, Signor Hugo ; but I begin to 
understand. You have been here before?” 

“ Yes ! ” 

I hardly recognised my own voice, so hoarse and 
broken did it sound, stealing in a whisper from be- 
tween my dry lips. She still looked at me steadily, 
and I felt fascinated with dread by the snake-like glare 
of those cruel eyes. 

‘ ‘ When were you here, Signor ? ” 

“ On Monday night ! ” 

“And you saw — nothing,” she said in a meaning 
tone. # 

“Yes !” I replied, lifting my head boldly, “I saw 
you receive Guiseppe Pallanza, and I saw you give 
him the poisoned cup ! ” 

She gave a cry of rage like a trapped animal, and 
made a step forward, but restraining herself with a 
powerful effort, sank into a chair and leaned her elbow 
on the table. Dressed in heavy black garments of 
velvet and silk, she looked more like the Borgia than 
ever, and the ruby necklace she constantly wore 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


ng 

flashed forth rays of red fire in the glimmer of the 
tremulous light. 

“ I understand now why you saidGuiseppe Pallanza 
would not come back/' she said with a scornful smile. 
“ I thought last night you knew more than you told. 
Eh! Signor, and it was you who sang at the door of 
the Ezzelino." 

“ Yes, it was I.” 

“Meddlesome Englishman that you are, do you 
not fear that I will treat you as I treated that false 
one?" 

“No 1 I mistrust your wine ! " 

“True, Signor Macchiavella ! forewarned is fore- 
armed. So you came here to look for Pallanza ? ” 

“I came to look for his body, Madame Morone, 
but I do not know where it is." 

“ No ; nor will you find it. And who is this 
woman? " 

“Guiseppe's betrothed.” 

The Contessa gave a cry of rage, and, rising from 
her seat, rushed towards the unconscious girl where 
she lay in the darkness. Owing to her singular gift 
she needed no light to see by, but examined the face 
of her rival minutely in the gloom. I had stepped 
forward, fearing lest, carried away by jealous anger, 
she should do the poor child an injury ; but such was 
not her intention, for after a minute's examination, she 
arose from her stooping position with a burst of wicked 
laughter. 

“So it was for this white-faced thing that he was 


120 


CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 

going to leave me — me, Giulietta Morone ! Eh, I feel 
much flattered at having such a rival. Why is she 
here, Signor Hugo ? ” 

“To find Pallanza,” I replied shortly. 

“ She will never find him ; he is lost to her for ever. 
But,” she added, with a wicked smile, “I am not 
afraid of your betraying me, Signor Hugo. I am not 
afraid of this poor fool, who thought to take Guiseppe 
from me, so I will revenge myself.” 

“ Revenge yourself ? ” 

“Yes; I have said it. You came here like a thief 
in the night, and saw what you were not meant to 
see. She comes in the daylight to seek her lover. 
Well, she shall see him. Wait till she revives, and I 
will blast her eyes with the sight of what he is now.” 

“You are a demon ! ” 

“ I am a wronged woman, whom a man sought to 
deceive. Ecco ! Behold, then, Englishman that you 
are, how we Italian women revenge ourselves ! ” 

She stepped past the unconscious body Of the girl, 
and, going to one of the pillars on the right side of 
the room, apparently touched a spring, for the whole 
pillar — which, as I have described before, was half 
built into the wall— revolved slowly with a grating 
sound and displayed a cavity. I bent forward with a 
shudder of horror, and saw — nothing ! 

The cavity was empty ! 

Signora Morone gazed at it with a look of horror 
on the wild beauty of her face ; then, with a cry of 
rage, of fear, and of dread, rushed out of the room. 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT \ 121 

I heard her shriek, “ Lost ! lost ! lost ! ” three times, 
then the sound of her retreating footsteps died away 
in the distance, and I was left alone in the ghastly 
gloom with the unconscious girl at my feet, and an 
agony in my heart such as I never hope to feel again 
in this life. 

How I got out of tha # t accursed room I hardly know.; 
but I faintly remember lifting Bianca in my arms, 
and, guided by instinct, Stagger through the dark 
corridors, down the silent stairs, and out into the 
courtyard. The fresh air seemed to revive me, and, 
collecting my scattered senses together with a gigantic 
effort, I looked round for some means by which to 
bring Bianca out of her faint, the length of which 
alarmed me terribly. 

In the corner of the courtyard there was a sculptured 
trough, which the late rains had brimmed over, so, 
hastening- towards this, I filled my cap with water, 
and, returning to Bianca, threw it in her face. 

She revived slowly with a shuddering sigh, and 
looked round vacantly ; then, with a sudden recollec- 
tion of what she had come through, she flung herself 
into my arms with an imploring cry, — 

“ Oh, that voice ! that voice ! Take me away from 
that cruel voice ! ” 


1 22 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE MARCHESE BELTRAMI. 

I managed to take Bianca home without much diffi- 
culty, for it was my good fortune to meet a disengaged 
fiacre in one of the narrow streets leading to the piazza 
Vittorio Emanuele, and placing the poor girl therein, 
we drove straight to the Casa Angello. The Signorina 
was in a very excited state, as that menacing voice, 
issuing out of the darkness, had quite unnerved her ; 
so, placing her in charge of Petronella, who made her 
lie down, I went for a doctor. Being a stranger in 
Verona it was difficult to find one, but at last I did so, 
and took him at once to see Bianca, for whom he 
prescribed a soothing draught, and assured me that 
she would be all right after a few hours’ sleep. This 
trouble therefore being off my mind, I went back to 
my hotel, in order to consider what was best to be 
done in the present emergency. 

I now saw that my surmise was right, and that the 
Contessa had hidden the body of the unfortunate Pal- 
lanza in the concealed tomb contrived by Count Mas- 
tino Morone for his guilty wife. It was a horribly 
ingenious idea that revolving pillar, and no one would 
have guessed its ghastly secret without being shown. 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


123 

Doubtless the wicked Donna Renata, shut up in this 
circular prison, had there starved slowly to death in 
an upright position, for, of course, the cavity was too 
narrow and too shallow to admit of any human be- 
ing lying down. The skilful devilry of the device 
made me feel quite ill, especially when I thought how 
the worthy descendant of Borgia's accursed daughter 
had utilised this secret cell for her own infamous pur- 
pose. In this frightful oubliette the body of Guiseppe 
Pallanza would have remained for ever concealed; 
but then, according to the evidence of my own eyes, 
the body was not there. 

That the Contessa had placed the corpse in the pil- 
lar I had not the slightest doubt, as in showing the 
hiding-place she evidently expected to overwhelm 
me by the hideous evidence of her barbarous crim- 
inality. That the cavity was empty was as much a 
surprise to her as to me, and the shriek of terror she 
had given when flying from the chamber showed me 
that she was overpowered with fear at the thought 
that her gruesome secret was shared by another per- 
son, for, putting me out of the question altogether, 
there appeared to be a third party implicated in this 
singular affair. 

For my own part I believed it to be the man who 
had watched with me at the curtained archway, and 
who, after drugging me, bore me insensible from that 
terrible place. After doing so, and thus, according 
to his idea, putting it out of my power to re-discover 
the palace, he had returned to his post and seen the 


124 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 

Contessa conceal the body of her victim in the cavity 
of the pillar. On her departure, for' some reason 
best known to himself, he had removed the corpse, 
and hidden it somewhere else. This was, no doubt, 
the true story of the affair, but who was the man 
who had watched at the door, and who had taken 
away the body of Pallanza? It was impossible to 
guess the reasons for his behaving in this mysterious 
way, and the Contessa was evidently as ignorant as 
myself of his actions, judging from her terrified flight 
on discovering the truth. Whomsoever this unknown 
person was, he, to all appearances, held the key 
to the whole riddle, and, could I find him, I would 
doubtless learn the reason of Madame Morone’s visit 
to the burial-ground, and the final fate of the un- 
happy tenor whom she had lured to his destruction. 

But how to find him ! that was the question, and 
one to which I could find no satisfactory answer ; so 
in the dilemma in which I thus found myself in- 
volved, I decided to tell Luigi Beltrami, as the only 
friend I had in Verona, the whole devilish story. In 
addition to the desire I felt of asking his advice and 
opinion, I thought it but right that he should know 
the real character of the woman he was about to 
marry, and not discover too late that he was tied for 
life to a ghoul, a vampire, a murderess. 

With this determination I looked for the card the 
Marchese had given me, and finding it in one of my 
pockets, discovered that my Italian friend lived in 
the Via Cartoni. As he had mentioned that he was 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 125 

always at home in the afternoon, doubtless to take a 
siesta during the heat of the day, on finishing my 
midday meal I went out to pay him a visit. 

In spite of his assertion that he was poor, Beltrami 
had a sufficient income to warrant him living in a 
moderately expensive manner, and on my arrival at 
his rooms in the Via Cartoni, I was shown into a very 
well-furnished apartment. As the Marchese was sta- 
tioned with his regiment at Verona for some consid- 
erable time, he had evidently brought a portion of 
his furniture from his Florentine palazzo, for the room 
was too handsome to be that of the ordinary class of 
furnished apartments. As usual, the ceiling was 
charmingly painted ; the floor was of marble, cov- 
ered here and therewith square Turkish carpets ; and 
in addition to a piano there were plenty of pictures 
and photographs, showing the artistic taste of the 
owner of the place. 

Beltrami himself, dressed as usual in his uniform, 
was seated at a desk placed in the window, writing 
letters, but he desisted when I was announced, and 
arose to greet me with marked cordiality. 

“ Ma foi, Hugo, this is kind of you to call so soon,” 
he said when I was comfortably established in a 
chair. “ I was just writing you a letter asking you 
to dine with me and go to the Ezzelino to-night, but 
as you are here the note is useless.” 

“The fact is, my dear Marchese, I have called on 
a selfish errand. ” 

“Indeed!” 


i2 6 A creature of the night. 

“Yes ; still it is one that concerns yourself also.” 

“ How so, mon ami ? Come, tell me this mystery 
about which I know nothing and you know every- 
thing ; but first here are some excellent cigarettes— 
Russian, my friend, not Italian. Dame ! the tobacco 
of this country, it is horrible. Will you have some 
wine ? ” 

“No, thank you, Beltrami, but I will be glad to 
smoke.” 

4 4 Bene ! help yourself. ” 

He pushed the box towards me, and, after I had 
taken a cigarette, followed my example, then, throw- 
ing himself into a chair near me, he nodded his head 
to show that he was ready to hear what I had to say. 

“Marchese!” I said, after some slight hesitation, 
“I think we are old enough friends to admit of my 
speaking to you freely.” 

“Eh! certainly!” 

“I trust you will not be offended.” 

Beltrami blew a wreath of smoke, and laying back 
his handsome head on the cushions of the chair, 
laughed heartily. 

“No, my doubting Englishman, I promise you I 
will not be offended at anything you say. ” 

“ But, Luigi, it is about the Contessa Morone ! ” 

“Eh 1 about the Contessa? — I thought as much ! ” 

“ How so ? ” I asked in some surprise. 

The face of the Marchese assumed that cruel, cun- 
ning look I so much disliked to see, and he eyed me 
in a nonchalant manner. 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 127 

“ Dame ! Signor Hugo, I will tell you when I hear 
your story of the Contessa. ” 

Thus committed to narrative, I told Beltrami the 
whole story of my adventure from the time I had 
seen the Contessa at the graveyard to the hour when 
she had fled in dismay from the Palazzo Morone. 
He listened attentively, and when I had finished re- 
mained silent for a few minutes with a thoughtful 
look on his dark face. 

“Why do you tell me all this, mon ami?” he 
asked, at length, twisting his moustache in a reflec- 
tive manner. 

“For two reasons. First, you may be able to aid 
me in my search for Pallanza ; and second, you must 
have been ignorant of the character of the woman 
you are going to marry.” 

“As to the first reason, Hugo, you are right. As 
to the second, you are wrong.” 

“What, you know ” 

“ I know most of the story you have told me, and 
as to the Signora Morone, mon Dieu ! I know her 
better than she does herself.” 

“ Then why marry her? ” 

Beltrami shrugged his shoulders and selected an- 
other cigarette. 

“Eh! she is rich and I am poor. It is time I 
ranged myself, as the French say, and I cannot afford 
to marry a poor wife ; besides ” 

“ Besides what ? ” 

“ I rather like the task of taming this demon of a 


128 a CREATURE OF THE AUGHT. 

woman. Madame Morone is Satan’s mistress in the 
matter of temper, I know, but I come of a race who 
either broke the will of their wives or ” 

“ Or ? ” I asked interrogatively. 

“ Or killed them ! ” 

“That’s rather risky nowadays, Marchese. We 
do not live in the time of the Renaissance remember. 
But let us leave off this discussion of Madame Mo- 
rone. I have told you my story, and you say you 
knew most of it before ! ” 

“And I say truly. Now listen, you cold-blooded 
islander, and see if I cannot disturb your phlegmatic 
disposition.” 

He paused a moment to give greater weight to 
his remarks, the conclusion of which I impatiently 
awaited. 

“I was the man who drugged you and had you 
carried to the Piazza Vittorio.” 

“ You ! ” 

“I was the man who carried away the body of 
Guiseppe Pallanza.” 

“ You ! ” 

“I am the man who, knowing what I do, calmly 
and with open eyes, have made up my mind to marry 
Madame Morone.” 

You ! ” 

I was so overwhelmed with the disclosures made 
by Beltrami that I could only sit thunderstruck in my 
chair, looking like an idiot and repeating “You ! you! 
you ! ” parrot-fashion. Beltrami enjoyed my confusion 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. i 2 g 

for some time, and then went on speaking with a 
mocking smile : — 

“ Eh ! I astonish you, Hugo. Well, I admit I treated 
you rather badly, my friend ; but then at the time I 
did not know whom you were. Dame ! I cannot see 
in the dark like Madame Gatta. ” 

The Marchese then was the man who held the key 
to this enigma, and, far from being offended at his 
rough treatment of me on that fatal night, I was only 
too delighted at discovering the unknown person who, 
in this strange repetition of the old legend, had played 
the part of Count Mastino Morone. 

“I have rather startled you, I fancy, Hugo?" said 
Beltrami with an ironical laugh. 

“I would be a fool to deny it ; but now that your 
dramatic surprise has come off so excellently, perhaps 
you will tell me what it all means." 

“Without doubt ; confidence for confidence! Be- 
sides, I want your help to carry this comedy to its 
legitimate conclusion." 

“Comedy, you call it? To my mind it is more 
like a tragedy." 

‘ ‘ There you are wrong, mon ami. In a tragedy 
there must be a death." 

“Well ! You forget Pallanza?" 

“-Not at all, Hugo ; that is the whole point. Pal- 
lanza is not dead. " 

I stared at the Marchese in astonishment. 

“ Pallanza not dead ! Impossible ! I saw him die 
on that night." 


9 


130 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT \ 

“ Dame ! You saw him fall insensible at the feet 
of the Contessa Morone, but insensibility is not death. ” 
“Then he is alive?” 

“Naturally! One must either be alive or dead. 
And as this devil of a tenor is not the latter, he must 
therefore be the former.” 

“ Then where is he ? ” 

“ Eh ! that is part of the story. ” 

This epigrammatic fencing on the part of Beltrami 
annoyed me greatly, as it piqued my curiosity with- 
out satisfying it, and I threw my half-smoked cigar- 
ette away with an outburst of bad temper. 

“ My dear Luigi, you have promised to tell me the 
story of this mystery, and instead of doing so you 
fire off epigrammatic squibs like Pasquin during the 
Carnival. The story, the story ! I beg of you. ” 

‘ ‘ Eh ! certainly ! Then take another cigarette, and 
I will tell you this ‘Thousand and Second Night’ 
romance.” 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


131 


CHAPTER XII. 

DEATH IN LIFE. 

“It is such a long story, Hugo,” said Beltrami, a 
trifle maliciously, “that we must really have some 
wine.” 

“I do not want wine; I want ‘The Thousand 
and Second Night. * ” 

“ Bene ! you shall have both.” 

The Marchese arose and summoned his servant, 
who brought up a bottle of Barbera, that rough-tast- 
ing wine which is so pleasant and cool in hot 
weather. For the sake of companionship I took some 
with Beltrami, and haying thus attended to the duties 
of hospitality, he signed to his servant to withdraw, 
and without further preamble began his tale. 

“Eh, Hugo, mon ami,” he said, settling himself 
comfortably in his chair, “ this would be a charming 
story for M. Bourget, that modem Balzac, who ana- 
lyses the hearts of the ladies of this generation in so 
masterly a fashion. Dame ! I would like to give him 
Madame Morone’s to dissect — he’d find some strange 
things there. Yet — would you believe it ? — this 
woman, worthy to be a sister of Lucrezia Borgia, 
came out of a convent to marry my poor friend 
Morone.” 


132 


A CREA TUBE OF THE NIGHT, 


“You knew him then ? ” 

“Ma foi ! I should think so, for many years. 
People said he was mad, but the only mad action he 
committed, to my mind, was in marrying Giulietta 
Rossana. ” 

“Yet you propose to do the same thing ?” 

“True, but I possess a means of taming this 
tigress of which the unfortunate Giorgio Morone 
knew nothing. He was a great chemist, this poor 
Count, and particularly fond of toxicology, a dangerous 
science with such a wife, as he found out to his cost. 
Cospetto ! I would not care myself about forging 
weapons for another to use against me, but that is 
exactly what Morone did.” 

“She poisoned him? ” 

“Eh! nobody says so, yet everybody thinks so. 
For my part, I believe the Contessa capable of any- 
thing. At all events, Morone died very suddenly, 
and was duly buried in that old ancestral vault to 
which his devoted wife, a year after his death, paid 
a visit. Well, before he died, Morone grew suspicious 
of the Contessa, and as he had just invented or re- 
discovered a poison which left no trace of having 
been used, and also an antidote to the same, he de- 
termined not to give the Signora an opportunity of 
exercising it on him, so this toxicological secret was 
buried with him.” 

“Ah ! I see now why she went to the graveyard. 
It was to get this poison.” 

“Exactly ! Whether it was put in the coffin of the 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT. 


*33 

dead man, or merely hidden in the vault, I don’t 
know, but we will go and see.” 

“To what end ? She has the poison ! ” 

“ Certainly ! I believe that, after seeing it exercised 
upon Pallanza ; but she has not got the antidote. ” 

“ How do you know that, Beltrami.” 

“ Because the Gontessa knows nothing of the exist- 
ence of the antidote. Morone talked enough about 
the poison itself, but he only mentioned the antidote 
to one man, and that was myself. You see, Hugo, 
he thought madame might try a little of his own 
poison on himself, in which case I would be able to 
give him the antidote.” 

‘ ‘ Couldn’t he have taken it himself ? ” 

“No ! this poison does not kill unless given in a 
large quantity ; five drops make you feel chill and 
listless ; ten drops take away your senses and con- 
verts you. into what I may paradoxically call a 
breathing corpse ; but fifteen drops kill. So. if ma- 
dame had given her husband fifteen drops he would 
have lapsed into a stupor and died, unless the an- 
tidote was given, so that is why he bestowed it on 
me.” 

“Well, but she killed him after all ?” 

“Yes, but with another poison not of home manu- 
facture. Eh ! what would you, Hugo, the Gontessa 
was not going to be thwarted by a husband who kept 
his laboratory locked. However, he tricked her over 
this particular poison, for he either gave instructions 
that it was to be put into his coffin without the 


134 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


knowledge of his dear wife, or he hid it himself in 
the vault, as he hinted to me one day he intended 
to do.” 

“There's no doubt then that the Contessa went to 
the vault for the poison ; but what about the antidote? 
Is it in your possession ? ” 

4 * Unfortunately, no, mon ami. I was ordered away 
from Verona, and gave back the antidote to the Count ; 
but on my return here, I heard casually that he had 
left a letter for me, to be delivered after his death. I 
went to Rome, where the Contessa was one of the 
ornaments of the Court, and asked for the letter. Of 
course she denied ever having heard of it. ” 

“And what do you think was in this letter?,” 

“Eh ! ma foi, I believe it told me where the poison 
was hidden in the vault, and that our dear Contessa 
found the letter, went to the vault on the night you saw 
her and obtained the poison. ” 

“ Also the antidote ? ” 

‘ ‘ Dame ! I’m not so sure of that. I knew about the 
antidote so well that I don’t think Morone would have 
mentioned it in the letter, in case it should meet the 
eye of his wife. No ! No ! mon ami ! she has the 
poison, of course ; but the antidote, I believe it is still 
in the vault, where we will look for it” 

“ For what reason ? ” 

“Diamine ! to revive this devil of a tenor who has 
had the misfortune to take ten drops of the Signora 
Morone’s mixture. ” 

“ But where is Pallanzn?” 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


135 

“ All in good time, Hugo, all in good time. I must 
tell you the rest of the story first. ” 

“ I am all impatience, Beltrami.” 

The Marchese, I saw, was enjoying this conver- 
sation, as the subject-matter was of an involved and 
difficult character which appealed to the subtleties of 
his Italian nature ; and the chance of playing a part in 
this intrigue, worthy of the Court of Lorenzo di Medici, 
delighted him beyond measure. He was, as I have 
said before, an anachronism, and this everyday, 
commonplace life of the nineteenth century offered no 
field for the exercise of his cunning brain and delicate 
diplomacy, which revelled in those bizarre compli- 
cations, full of sophistry and double meanings, which 
distinguished the intricate statecraft of the Italian 
republics. 

“You wonder, ” continued the Marchese reflectively ; 
“you wonder, no doubt, after hearing my opinions 
about the Contessa Morone, that I should care to 
marry her ; but, as I told you before, there are reasons. 
I am poor, she is rich, and I marry her for her money. 
This is brutal is it not? but then you see I look at 
the matter from a Latin point of view, you from an 
English. As Euclid — -whom, by the way, I always 
hated — says, ‘ Two parallel straight lines cannot meet, ’ 
it is no use our arguing over this point, as neither of us 
would convince the other. It is a question of race, 
Hugo, nothing more. Ebbene ! my other reason isthat 
I wish to tame this woman with the heart of a tigress. 
Iam wearied of the dulness of this present life, and the 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


136 

task of fencing with Signora Morone will be a perpe- 
tual excitement, particularly as I know it will not be un- 
attended with danger. This is also a question of race, 
and the theory of straight lines applies, so again we 
will not argue ; but you can see one thing plainly, that 
I want to marry the Contessa ? ” 

“ Yes, I can see that, and I wonder at your daring.” 

“ Straight lines, for the third time, Signor Hugo. 
Ebbene ! Although I wanted to marry the Contessa, 
she hating and detesting me with her whole soul, as 
a friend of her late husband, would not listen to me at 
all, so as she would not go to the altar willingly, I 
determined to force her there. I made it my business 
to find out all about her life, and a devil of a life it is, 
I can tell you. Pallanza is not the first lover this 
daughter of Venus has smiled on.” 

“ Oh ! ” I broke out in disgust, “how can you think 
of marrying this infamous woman — a murderess, a 
poisoner, a fiend in human form ? ” 

“Dio! I have given you my reasons, and you, 
straitlaced Englishman that you are, cannot under- 
stand them. However, we will talk of this again ; 
meantime to continue. The Contessa was so madly 
in love with Pallanza, who I grant you is a handsome 
fellow with a charming voice, that I foresaw when he 
attempted to leave her there would be trouble. I dis- 
covered that he was engaged to some Signorina of 
Milan, that she was at Verona, and that Pallanza was 
going to sing at Verona ; so when he did arrive I was 
in nowise astonished at the appearance of Madame 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


*37 

Morone at the Ezzelino. Things were coming to a 
climax, so I watched for the bursting of the storm. 
The rendezvous of these lovers woul^ be, I knew, at 
the deserted Palazzo Morone. How did I know ? 
Mon cher ami, you are simplicity itself. Have I not 
told you that I knew the Contessa when she lived at 
Verona with her husband, and — and — well it is not 
the first time she has used that palazzo and played at 
Boccaccian stories in that room. You know she 
fancies herself like Lucrezia Borgia, and tries to 
imitate those picturesque feasts to which Ferraras 
Duchess was so addicted — yes, even to the use of 
poison. Dame ! I thought I was at the opera when 
I saw that supper the other night. ” 

“ How did you get into the palazzo ? ” 

“Ah, that is an adventure worthy of Gil Bias. I 
filed through a bar in the gate and wrenched it out. ” 
* ‘ I thought so, for I entered the same way ! ” 

“I guessed as much, my friend. Ebbene ! I 
watched the palace from the time Madame Morone 
arrived in Verona, and my patience was rewarded on 
Monday night by seeing our picturesque tenor use his 
key and enter by the side door. I was not alone, for 
I greatly mistrusted Madame Morone should she dis- 
cover me in that lonely palazzo ; so, as I had two men 
absolutely devoted to me, I took them with me.” 

“They were very brave to go near that ghastly 
palace, considering the reputation it has.” 

“Mafoi, they are Florentines, and know nothing 
about Verona. Their ancestors have been in the 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


« 3 * 

service of mine for many years, and in their eyes 
a Beltrami can do no wrong. Now is that not 
wonderful in this present age of ducats and steam- 
engines ? ” 

‘ ‘ So wonderful, Marchese, that I can hardly believe 
it!” 

“Cospetto! it is true I tell you. These men are 
absolutely devoted to me, and think me a much 
greater man than Umberto of Savoy. Ebbene ! I 
posted my two men in a dark corner of the palazzo 
with instructions not to move until I told them ; then 
I went after our tenor, and found him strumming on 
the mandolin while he awaited the arrival of the 
Contessa.” 

“ Ah ! she had gone to the burial-ground.” 

“Yes! I did not know that until you told me. 
However, I hid myself behind the tapestry in the 
outer room and waited. The Contessa arrived, and, 
to my surprise, you also appeared. I caught a 
glimpse of you at the door before that torch went out, 
but, of course, I did not recognise you, and was 
puzzled to account for your presence there. Luckily, 
I had a bottle of chloroform in my pocket, which I 
took with me to the palace in case of accidents ” 

“ But what good would chloroform do ? ” 

“ Dame ! have you ever seen Madame Morone in 
a rage ? ” 

“No!” 

“Then it is not a pretty sight, I can tell you. 
That woman is a devil, and, for all I know, might 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


1 39 

have had some one in the palace to do her bidding. 
If I had been found there, and taken at a disadvantage, 
I might have occupied that delightful pillar and never 
been seen again. Ah ! you smile, mon ami, but remem- 
ber this is Italy, not England, and with a woman like the 
Contessa, who recalls the Borgia times so admirably, 
it is always well to be prepared If she had discov- 
ered me, my chloroform might have come in useful. ” 
“It certainly did in my case l ” 

“ Ma foi, I've told you before I did not know it was 
you. I only beheld a stranger, and thinking that the 
stranger might interfere with my plans, I stole across 
the antechamber, and when you fell back— well, I 
used my chloroform. Then I left you lying hidden 
behind the tapestry, and went on watching Madame 
Morone at her Borgian supper. She was dragging 
Pallanza's body to the pillar, and, having safely shut 
him up there, departed with a satisfied smile on her 
face ; so I was left alone with two apparently dead 
men — Pallanza in the pillar, and you behind the 
tapestry. ” 

“A sufficiently dramatic situation I think, Marchese. ” 
“Eh! no doubt. There is more drama in life — - 
especially in Italian life — than people think, and there 
are even stranger events than this * comedy of the 
Palazzo Morone take place in our midst.” 

“From what I have seen of your people, Luigi, I 
quite believe it. Well, about this dramatic situation — 
what did you do next ? ” 

“Cospetto! I played my part on the stage with 


I 4 0 A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 

great judgment, I can tell you. When I was sure 
that Madame Morone had left the palazzo I re-lighted 
the candles, and went to see what appearance my 
man behind the tapestry presented. To my surprise 
I recognised Signor Hugo Cranston, and you may 
fancy I was considerably astonished, as I could not 
understand how you had become mixed up in this 
Boccaccian adventure. Friendship said, ‘ Revive him 
and apologize/ Caution remarked, ‘Remove him 
from the palazzo, and let him think the events of the 
night a dream/ ” 

“ Oh ! and you adopted the advice of caution ? ” 

“ Diavolo ! what else could I do ? You might have 
interfered with my plans ; and, besides, I always in- 
tended to give you an explanation when the Contessa 
became the Marchesa Beltrami. Circumstances, how- 
ever, have brought about the explanation sooner than 
I intended.” 

“So I see,” I replied drily. “However, you re- 
moved me from the palace.” 

“Yes ! I called up my two men, and, telling them 
you were — well — overcome by Bacchus, ordered them 
to take you to the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele and leave 
you there. Ecco ! ” 

“Oh, Beltrami.” 

“Eh, you reproach me. Well, I no doubt deserve 
your reproaches, but it was the best excuse I could 
think of, as it doesn’t do to trust servants too much. 
Ebbene ! they took you away and left you in the 
Piazza, where you awoke in the morning?” 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


141 

“I did, with a confounded headache.” 

“Ma foil that was the chloroform, no doubt. 
Having thus arranged your little matter I went to the 
pillar and released Guiseppe Pallanza.” 

“ He was not dead, then?” 

“ No ! She gave him ten drops, I tell you. So 
that, although he was not actually dead, he had all 
the appearance of a corpse. I could not revive him 
as I had not the antidote ; so, when my two men 
returned, I had him brought here.” 

“ Here ! In this house ? ” 

“Precisely! he is in the next room. We will go 
and look at him presently. But to continue : the next 
day I called upon the Contessa, and told her I had 
seen all, suppressing, however, the fact that I had 
carried off this unfortunate lover.” 

“ Which accounted for her surprise to-day on seeing 
the pillar empty ? ” 

“ Of course ; she never dreamed that I would meddle 
with her work. Well, I gave her a choice of either 
explaining her little adventure to the authorities, and 
thus run a chance of being imprisoned for life, or of 
becoming my wife. Of these two evils she chose the 
least ; so now I am engaged to marry her, and she 
will become the Marchesa Beltrami next month. 
Interesting, is it not, Hugo ? ” 

It was no use arguing with this man, who, as he 
said himself, looked at the affair in a totally different 
light from what I did, and I did not know whether to 
loathe his brutal candour, to despise his mercenary 


142 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT \ 


designs, or to admire his undoubted courage in mar- 
rying this woman. However, I reflected that his 
subtle intriguing would undoubtedly be sufficiently 
punished by his marriage with this tigress of a Con- 
tessa, and as my only desire was to restore Pallanza 
to the arms of Bianca, I neither condemned nor praised 
Beltrami’s singular conduct, which seemed admirable 
in his own eyes, but simply complimented him on 
his adroitness in following the precepts of Niccolo 
Macchiavella. He listened to my cold remarks with 
a disbelieving smile on his face, and laughed mock- 
ingly when I ceased speaking. 

“Eh! Hugo, you do not approve of my ideas? 
Well, I do not wonder at that Fire and water are 
not more different than an Italian and an Englishman. 
Your cool blood comes from generations of church- 
going, straight-laced ancestors, whose beliefs ruled 
their lives in a simple manner ; but my fiery blood 
burned in the veins of those condottieri of the Renais- 
sance who were at war with King and Pope and 
Republic, who constantly stood on the verge of 
unseen precipices, and who needed all their craft, 
their courage, and their iron nerve to preserve their 
lives and fortunes. Dame! let us talk no more of 
such contrasts, but come with me, and I will show 
you this missing lover of Madame Morone.” 

I acquiesced eagerly in this proposal, and followed 
Beltrami, who led me into his bedroom, and, having 
unlocked a door in the opposite wall, ushered me into 
a small, bare apartment, containing a bed on which 


A CREATURE OF THE MIGHT. 


M3 

lay the still form of Guiseppe Pallanza. There he was 
dressed the same as on that fatal night, with his eyes 
closed, a frozen look on his white face, and his hands 
crossed on his breast. Lying thus in his antique garb 
he put me in mind of one of those coloured statues 
which adorn the tombs of great men ; where the face, 
the hair, and the vestments are all tinted so as to pro- 
duce the semblance of life. But was life here, in the 
body of this young man, who lay so passively before 
me with closed eyes as though he were indeed buried 
in some sepulchre of the dead ? 

“ Oh ! he is alive,” said Beltrami, guessing my 
thought as I shrank back from the bed ; “it is a case 
of suspended animation.” 

“ But lasting three- — four days ? ” 

“Dame, yes ! It would last much longer, I have 
no doubt. Ten drops produce this life-in-death state 
which you see, fifteen drops the same thing ; but the 
one ends in death after a certain time, the other does 
not.” 

“But why did you not go to the vault and find this 
antidote at once ? ” 

“Well, to tell you the truth, Hugo, I thought it 
would be a useless errand, as I do not know where to 
look for it. I fancied that Madame Morone might 
have found another bottle of this damnable poison, 
but it never struck me until I heard your story that 
she had read the letter addressed by Morone to me, 
and gone to the vault for the poison.” 

“And what are we to do now?" 


144 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 

“Go to the vault, to be sure, and look for this 
antidote. ” 

“But, the vault is locked ! ” 

“True, I forgot that/' said Beltrami, with a thought- 
ful frown, “however, I think I can procure the key.” 

“From Madame Morone?” 

‘Dame ! No ! that would put her on her guard at 
once. I want her to think Pallanza is still in this 
cataleptic state, otherwise she won’t marry me, as my 
power over her will be gone. I’ll get the key some- 
how ; if not, one of my men knows something about 
picking locks, so we will take him with us.” 

‘ ‘ A reputable servant, truly ! ” 

“ Eh ! What would you ! ” said Beltrami carelessly, 
as he led the way out of the room and locked the 
door. “Even lock-picking is useful on occasions — 
witness the present one. Well, are you ready to go 
to the vault with me to-night ? ” 

“ At night, Beltrami ? ” 

“Most certainly. If we went in the day-time all 
Verona would be in commotion. No ! we must go 
at midnight when no one is about. Have you the 
courage ? ” 

“ I think so ! but I hope Madame Morone will not 
be there ! ” 

* * There’s no fear of that, as she has no reason to 
pay a second visit to the remains of her husband. 
She has got the poison, and knows nothing about the 
antidote, so make yourself easy on that score. 
Ecco 1 ” 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT. 


145 


‘ ‘ What are you going to do now, Marchesa ! ” 
“See if I can obtain that key. If I fail to obtain 
it, I will bring Matteo with me. As for you, my 
friend, go and take something to eat, and meet me 
on the Ponte Aleardi at midnight. ” 

‘ ‘ I will be there, Beltrami. Good-bye for the 
present. ” 

“ A revederci, Hugo ; I am obliged for your confi- 
dence, as it has solved the difficulty of knowing what 
to do with Signor Cupid. ” 

We both went different ways ; Beltrami to search 
for his key, and myself to hasten home to my hotel, 
and prepare myself for the fatigues of this midnight 
excursion, which, however much it appealed to the 
Marchese’s sense of the romantic, was certainly not 
relished by me. 

10 


146 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

“down among the dead men.” 

Do you know that gruesome old ballad, with its 
sombre refrain of “Down! Down! Down among 
the dead men ? ” A friend of mine with a deep bass 
voice, used to sing it in order to display his lower 
notes, upon which— and not without reason— he 
flattered himself greatly ; but in after years, I never 
heard it sung without a shudder, so vividly did it re- 
call to my mind the grotesque horror of that midnight 
visit to the Tomb of the Morone, in that old burial- 
ground of Verona. Of late I had been so much 
mixed up with ghosts, vaults, ghouls and crimes, 
that I was by no means anxious to continue the cat- 
egory, and would have infinitely preferred to have let 
Beltrami, who liked such uncomfortable things, go 
alone ; but being an Englishman, I had to uphold 
the honour of my country, so never thought for 
a moment of showing the white feather. Besides, the 
only chance of saving Pallanza was by obtaining 
possession of the antidote, and in spite of my repug- 
nance to the errand, I fully made up my mind to be 
on the Ponte Aleardi at the appointed time. 

Meanwhile I fortified myself against possible hor- 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 147 

rors by having an excellent dinner, supplemented by 
a small bottle of champagne. I could not afford that 
luxurious wine, and it was sinfully extravagant of me 
to waste my small stock of money upon such a thing, 
but in the face of this midnight adventure I really felt 
that a little stimulant would comfort me under the 
circumstances. The result was admirable, for all my 
nervous apprehensions disappeared, and I sat in the 
smoking-room puffing at my after-dinner pipe in a 
very contented frame of mind, considering what 
awaited me at twelve o’clock p.m. Was I a coward ? 
I don’t think so. Many men who have no physical 
fear, and would ride gaily enough into battle, shrink 
with superstitious awe from the eerie neighbourhood 
of the dead, and I, owing to the causes I have stated 
before, am of this class. Come, then, ye dauntless 
scoffers, who would dare anything — in the broad day- 
light, and let me see if you would contemplate a 
midnight visit to an antique vault with equanimity ! 
I think not, for however brave a man may be, it is 
the law of Nature that he should thrill with fear at 
the approach of the supernatural. 

I sat smoking and thinking in the twilight, which 
was a bad preparation for the event, as twilight 
thoughts are invariably mournful, and my own dear 
dead ones seemed to throng in the dusky shadow of 
the room, reproaching me in voiceless grief for the 
intention I had of profaning the sanctity of the Tomb. 
To rid myself of these melancholy reflections, and 
banish from my brain the mute crowd of ghosts, I 


1 48 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

went out for a walk, intending to call at the Casa 
Angello, in order to ask after the Signorina Bianca. 

Petronella told me that the poor child was much - 
better, but exhausted by the shock she had sustained 
at the Palazzo Morone, and had fallen into a deep 
sleep which would do her more good than all the 
drugs of the doctor. The worthy domestic was very 
wrathful at me, and wanted to know what I had told 
her “ piccola,” but I put her off with some excuse, as 
I had no desire that she should know the events of 
that day. On taking my departure I gave Petronella 
a note for the Signorina, which contained only three 
words, “Wait and hope,” with instructions that it 
was to be delivered to her when she woke up. Petro- 
nella, somewhat mollified by my assurance that all 
would be right, promised to fulfil this commission, 
and I returned to my hotel very contented with the 
present aspect of affairs. 

On regaining my bedroom I lay down about eight 
o’clock, in order to get a little sleep, but the remedy 
was worse than the disease, for when my eyes were 
closed the phantoms of waking hours reappeared still 
more vividly to my inner senses. However, I fought 
against the dread which threatened to overwhelm me, 
and fell into a comparatively dreamless slumber, 
from which I awoke shortly after eleven. Rising 
from the bed upon which I had thrown myself half 
dressed, I hurriedly completed my toilette, and 
bathed my burning face in cold water. On my arri- 
val in Milan, I had bought one of those picturesque 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


149 


Italian cloaks which one only sees in England on the 
operatic stage, and throwing this around me; I put 
on a soft black wide-awake, so that what with the 
mantle draped around me, and my naturally dark 
face, I looked very much like a native of Italy. 
Lighting a cigarette, I took my heavy stick, and thus 
prepared, went out to keep my appointment with 
Luigi Beltrami on the Ponte Aleardi. 

To the hot day had succeeded the hot night, but a 
strong dry wind was blowing which drove the filmy 
clouds across the face of the haggard-looking moon. 
A few stars peeped out here and there through the 
frail woof, and the chill moonlight waxed and waned 
with the appearing and disappearing of the pale 
planet, almost lost amid the wild confluence of drift- 
ing clouds. A misty circle round the moon was 
prophetic of rain, and under this wild, wind-vexed 
sky lay the sleeping city, dark and sombre, with the 
rough blasts sweeping drearily down the lonely 
streets. 

In spite of the heat, so eerie was the aspect of the 
night that I drew my cloak around me with a shiver 
of nervous fear, and leaving the Piazza Vittorio Ema- 
nuele, hastened along the Via Pallone, in the direc- 
tion of the Ponte Aleardi. I arrived there just as the 
clock of St. Fermo sounded the three-quarters, and as 
Beltrami was not yet at the meeting place, I leaned 
on the balustrade of the bridge and watched the grey 
waters swirling under the fitful light of the moon. I 
could not help thinking of the strange events which 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


150 

had taken place since I had last occupied the same 
position— the antique chamber with its associations 
of love and crime — the Teatro Ezzelino, where I had 
beheld the phantom of Lucrezia Borgia— the grief 
and pain of poor little Bianca, and the extraordinary- 
conversation I had held with Beltrami a few hours 
before. It was all most unreal and feverish, this 
mediaeval intrigue into which I had been drawn; and 
I question if any student of singing had ever before 
been involved in such a bizarre adventure — an adven- 
ture which I hoped and prayed and trusted would 
end to-night. 

Buried in these sombre reflections I did not hear 
the sound of approaching footsteps, and it was only 
when I felt a hand on my shoulder that I turned 
round, with a sudden start, to see the Marchesa 
standing beside me wrapped in his military cloak, 
and accompanied by a man who waited a little way 
off in respectful silence. 

“Bravo, Signor Hugo!” cried the Marchesa in a 
cheerful tone, “you have been waiting long?” 

“About a quarter of an hour. So you have not 
obtained the key, Beltrami ? ” 

“Unfortunately I have not! However, here is 
Matteo, and I daresay we shall manage to get the 
door open in some way. Come, Caro,” continued 
Beltrami, taking my arm, “ we have no time to lose. 
Ecco ! ” 

I do not believe Beltrami had any nerves, for the 
whole way to the burial-ground he chatted cheer- 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


151 

fully about the antidote, the Contessa and the tenor, 
not appearing to be at all impressed with the 
solemnity of the affair. What Matteo felt I do 
not know, as he never opened his mouth, but glided 
after us like a shadow, until we arrived at the broken 
wall. 

The Marchesa climbed over first, his long sabre 
clashing heavily against the stones as he jumped 
down on the other side. I followed without delay, and 
Matteo, having joined us, we went on through the 
dense shade of the cypress trees, until we arrived at 
the forbidding-looking tomb, the sight of which put 
me in mind of my uncanny adventure. 

Beltrami, undeterred by the flaming sword of the 
guardian angel, tried the iron door, on the chance 
that it might be unlocked ; but finding it fast closed, 
signed to Matteo to get to work at opce. Without a 
word the man obeyed, and as the moon was now 
shining down in her full splendour, he could see per- 
fectly well, without the aid of artificial light, for, 
although he carried a torch, Beltrami did not wish it 
lighted, in case the glare should attract attention. 

While Matteo was working away at the lock I took 
my seat on the fallen stone near the door, and Bel- 
trami, throwing off his cloak, flung himself down on 
the grass beside me. 

/‘Dio, how, hot I am!” he exclaimed, wiping his 
brow. 

“And how very imprudent, Luigi. Remember, 
you are in uniform.” 


152 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


“ Ma foi, I’m never in anything else,” retorted the 
Marchese gaily ; “don’t trouble yourself, Hugo, no 
one will dare to come near the cemetery, at this hour, 
so, uniform or no uniform, I’m safe from observation. 
Will you have a cigar ? ” 

“ No, thank you. But you surely do not intend to 
smoke now ? ” 

“ Why not? ” said Beltrami, lighting his cigar ; “it 
cannot harm the Signori Morone, and I’ve no wish to 
go down into that evil-smelling vault without taking 
some precaution against fever. Ecco ! ” 

“ Oh, well, do as you will,” I replied, indifferently, 
beginning myself to grow callous ; ‘ ‘ but I want to 
ask you something, Luigi.” 

“ Ebbene ! ” 

“ Was Count Giorgio Morone really mad ? ” 

“ Eh ! I’m not sure. Every one said he was, but I 
did not think so. Dame ! they call every man mad 
who has brains above his fellows, and Morone was 
a clever man. Though, to be sure, it was curious 
his hiding this poison in the vault, instead of de- 
stroying it altogether.” 

“That would certainly have been the wisest plan.” 

“Very likely, but you see, my wise Englishman, 
Morone had a tenderness for this child of his brain, 
and he could not bear to destroy his work. Oh ! 
inventors are wonderful egotists, I assure you.” 

At this moment Matteo, who had been working in 
silence for some considerable time, approached his 
master. 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


153 


“ Eccellenza, it is open ! ” 

“Bene !” cried Beltrami, springing to his feet, and 
wrapping his cloak around him again, “give me the 
torch. Come, Signor Hugo, let us go down, and 
you, Matteo, stay at the door, and see that we are not 
interrupted. ” 

“Si, Eccellenza ! ” 

Beltrami stepped cautiously into the tomb, and I 
followed him, then half closing the iron door so that 
the light might not attract attention, he fired the 
torch, the flame of which shot upward with a red 
flare and resinous odour of smoke, showing us that we 
stood on the top of a flight of steep steps which led down- 
ward into the darkness. A chill, humid atmosphere 
pervaded this abode of the dead, and seemed to 
penetrate into my very bones, notwithstanding the 
heavy cloak I wore. 

For a moment we paused on the height, looking 
downward into the thick gloom ; then Beltrami 
descended the steps slowly, tossing the flaring torch 
up and down, to and fro, in order to illuminate the 
darkness, and as I followed him the smoke, with its 
pungent odour, streamed backward towards my face. 
A bat, startled by the glare, flew round our heads 
with a rapid sweep of its noiseless wings, then 
vanished through the half-open door into the night 
beyond, like some escaping spectre of the tomb. 

At last we reached the floor of the vault, which 
was paved with broad black marble slabs, so highly 
polished that the crimson blaze of the torch was 


154 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

reflected therein. All around in niches were innumer- 
able coffins, some covered with tattered velvet palls, 
while others stood out grim and bare in their leaden 
hideousness, the coverings having long since mould- 
ered away. In the gloom, there every no w and then 
could be perceived the glimmer of some white figure 
sculptured on the massive wall, the glitter of tarnished 
silver ornaments, and the outlines of painted devices, 
while the smoky torch with its angry flame cast 
strange gleams upon these mouldy splendours of 
the dead. 

In the centre, on a square stone hidden by a rich 
palLof black velvet, embroidered with armorial de- 
vices in silver braid, rested the gorgeous coffin of the 
last Morone, which I presume was to remain there 
until the death of the Contessa, when it would be 
removed to its already-prepared niche to make way 
for the sole survivor of the proud race. 

The Marchesa at once advanced to the coffin, and 
waving the torch above it, examined the decorations 
closely. True to his determination he was smoking, 
and it gave me an unpleasant shock to see this 
cloaked figure behaving so disrespectfully in the 
solemn presence of the dead. 

‘ ‘ Bene ! ” he said at length in a satisfied tone, 1 1 there 
is one thing certain. It is not in the coffin ! ” 

“ How do you know that, Beltrami?” 

“ Because the lid is screwed down, and the Con- 
tessa, who as you say was alone, could not have 
taken that off. Besides, even if she did, Madame 


A CUE A TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


155 

Morone knows the value of time too well to waste it 
in replacing the lid. No, it is not in the coffin, but 
it’s somewhere about the coffin. ” 

“ What makes you think so, Luigi ? ” 

“All this elaborate silver work! There’s too 
much of it to be there without some reason. Caro, 
Hugo, just hold the torch and I will make an exam- 
ination. ” 

I took the torch in silence and watched his actions 
with great curiosity. The coffin, as he said, was 
most elaborately adorned with silver work represent- 
ing the arms of the Morone family, interspersed with 
wreaths of flowers and tangled seaweed. On the lid 
was a broad silver plate similarly adorned, setting 
forth the name, titles, and date of death of the de- 
ceased, and round the oblong sides of this shell ran 
another broad wreath of flowers, shells, crests, and 
seaweeds, designed in the same style as the decora- 
tions on the lid. Beltrami, who was a clever pres- 
tidigitateur and could perform the most marvellous 
tricks with cards, had a wonderfully delicate sense of 
touch, and trusting to this more than to his eyes he 
ran his slender fingers rapidly over the raised silver 
ornaments on the lid of the coffin. 

I saw at once that he suspected this useless silver 
ornamentation concealed some secret hiding-place in 
which the bottles of the poison and its antidote were 
hidden, and I could not help admiring the wonderful 
cleverness of the man in thinking of such an extra- 
ordinary idea, particularly as I saw at once that if the 


1 56 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

poison were anywhere it would be in some such in- 
genious hiding-place. 

After running his hands twice or thrice over the lid, 
he shook his head with an angry ejaculation, and de- 
sisted from his apparently useless task. 

“Dame! it’s not on the top, that’s certain,” he 
said, stamping his foot with vexation. “My fingers 
never, deceive me, and I’m sure I haven’t missed 
anything. From what I’ve told you I don’t think 
it can be within the coffin. Ecco ! let us try the 
sides.” 

He carefully wiped the tips of his fingers with his 
handkerchief, and beginning at the side nearest the 
head ran his fingers delicately along the cold silver 
work. Nothing was discoverable at the side, but 
when he came to the end of the coffin at the feet of 
the corpse he gave a cry of triumph which brought 
me at once to his side. 

“Bravo, Hugo ! what did I tell you ! The poison- 
bottle was in the silver work. Behold, infidel, how 
truly I speak. Ecco ! ” 

The decoration at this narrow end was a heart- 
shape shield, bearing the arms of the Morone family 
and wreathed with flowers, but this shield, which 
curved outward had a spring at the top. In touch- 
ing this, the whole shield fell downward, working on 
a single hinge, and there was a cavity in which a 
small bottle might easily be concealed. 

“ I see the hiding-place, Beltrami ; but where is the 
poison ! ” 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


'57 

“Eh ! have you forgotten the visit of theContessa, 
mon ami ? ” 

“No, no ! of course not ! She, no doubt, took the 
poison away, and, I daresay, the antidote with it." 

“Mon cher, I will never make anything of you," 
cried the Marchese in despair ; “what did I tell you 
about that letter?" 

“You said that no doubt as the Count was afraid 
of it being found by his wife he would only mention 
where the poison was concealed, and keep silent 
about the antidote.” 

“Ebbene ! The Contessa knew nothing of the ex- 
istence of the antidote, so when she found the poison 
she thought she had found all. Is that not so, you 
stupid Englishman ? " 

“Yes, I suppose so." 

/ “ Good ! Well I, knowing of the existence of the 
antidote not mentioned in the letter, and only finding 
the poison at the feet, would naturally look for the 
antidote — where ? " 

“ I daresay at the head," I suggested, after a pause ; 
upon which Beltrami laughed, and walked to the other 
end of the coffin. 

“ Of course ; it would be the most natural thing to 
do. Behold, mon ami ! ” 

He touched the top of a similar shield at the head 
of the coffin ; it fell stiffly outward, and lo ! in the 
hollow of the curve, lay a small bottle, which Beltrami 
took in his hand, and then restored the shield to its 
former position. 


158 A creature of the night, 

“ Luigi, you are a most wonderful man ! ” I cried, 
with a burst of genuine admiration at the clever way 
in which he had guessed this riddle. 

“ I only use my brains/" he replied, with a grati- 
fied laugh. “The poison being at the feet, it was 
not difficult to guess the antidote was at the head ; 
particularly as the decorations on both ends of the 
coffin are the same precisely. Dame ! if the Contessa 
had only known the antidote was in existence she 
would have argued in the same way as I have done, 
and carried it off as she had done the poison.” 

“Well, we can now restore that unfortunate Pal- 
lanza to life. ” 

“Yes, I suppose so,” said the Marchese, slipping 
the bottle containing the antidote into his pocket ; 
“though he certainly does not deserve to have an- 
other chance of existence. But as it is inconvenient 
keeping him in my house, I suppose I must send him 
away on his legs. Ecco ! But come along, Hugo. 
We have what we desire, and I care not for this abode 
of death. ” 

We went up the stairs and out of the iron door, 
where we found Matteo still keeping guard. It was 
quite a relief to get out of the fetid atmosphere of the 
tomb into the cool, fresh air again, and I felt like a 
released prisoner who was free for the first time after 
many years. The Marchese, however, man of iron 
as he was, did not seem to be affected in any way, 
but wrapping his cloak round him, prepared to go. 

“ Can you close that door again, Matteo ? ” 


A CREA TURE OE THE NIGHT 


*59 


“ Eccellenza ! it is done ! ” 

“Bene! Let us. go ! ” 

In fact the moment we emerged, Matteo, knowing 
our task was concluded, had reclosed the door by 
some trick known to himself ; so we all three climbed 
over the broken wall, and took our way to the Ponte 
Aleardi. 

“ And when are you going to give Pallanza the an- 
tidote ? ” I asked, as we walked along arm-in-arm. 

“ Eh ! Signor Hugo, to-morrow 1 ” 

“Why not to-night? ” 

“ Ma foi ! I am tired. A few hours will not make 
much difference ; besides, I want a doctor to be pre- 
sent. The antidote will revive the poor devil, but he 
will be so weak after going without food all these days 
that the doctor will have to take charge of him.” 

“Well, then, I will see you to-morrow, Marchese. 
At what hour ? ” 

“ Two and a half in the afternoon. I attend to my 
military duties in the morning. Buona sera, Hugo ! ” 

“ Good-night, Beltrami. ” 

We parted with a hearty shake of the hand, and I 
suppose after all I had gone through, nature was 
thoroughly tired out ; for I went straight to bed and 
slept soundly without dreams, visions, or phantoms 
of any kind coming to disturb my rest. 


j6o A creature of the night. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE NEW LAZARUS, 

For the first time during the week I had a good night's 
rest, for ever since my adventure the events in con- 
nection therewith had succeeded one another so 
rapidly that my brain was kept in too active a state to 
admit of slumber, but now that everything seemed to 
be at an end, that the antidote had been found, and 
that Pallanza would be restored to Bianca Angello, 
my mind was relieved of the strain upon it, and I 
slept soundly till morning. In fact, I did not waken 
till nearly eleven o'clock, and having taken my bath 
I dressed myself slowly, made a good meal at mid- 
day, and altogether felt better than I had done for the 
last week. 

As my appointment with Beltrami was for half-past 
two I did not go to Casa Angello for my usual singing 
lesson, not wishing to see the Signorina until I could 
tell her the good news that her lover was alive and well. 
It was true Beltrami had asserted that the antidote 
would awaken the young man from his death-like 
slumber, but remembering that he had now been in 
this state of catalepsy for nearly a week, I felt doubtful 
as to the success of the experiment. However, a few 
hours would now decide the fate of Pallanza for life 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 161 

or death, and in the event of the antidote acting ac- 
cording to the expectations of the Marchese, I promised 
myself I should be the first to carry the joyful news 
of this wonderful resurrection to the Signorina Bianca. 

When two o’clock struck I could no longer restrain 
my impatience, but set off without further delay to 
see Beltrami at his apartments. He had just returned 
from the barracks, and was taking some biscuits and 
wine when I was announced, but jumped up when 
he saw me and came forward with outstretched 
hand, — 

“Eh! mon ami, I am delighted to see you! Sit 
down, while I finish this small meal. Will you have 
a glass of wine ? ” 

“No, thank you, Marchese ! ” 

‘ ‘ Then take a cigarette, there are some on that 
table. ” 

The Marchese returned to his wine and biscuits, 
while I lighted a cigarette, and lay down On the sofa. 

“Excuse me lying down, Luigi, but our last night’s 
experience has knocked me up terribly. ” 

“You would never do for a soldier, Signor Hugo! 
I’ve been drilling some stupid recruits all the morning, 
and I feel perfectly fresh. Ecco ! I’m glad to see 
you, however, as I have some news to tell you.” 

“ About Pallanza ? ” 

“Eh? No! About Madame Morone.” 

“ Ah ! she has found out we were at the vault ? ” 

“Dame! not a bit of it. She left Verona by the 
five o’clock train last night.” 

ii 


1 62 a CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

“ Left Verona ! ” I cried, rising hastily from my 
recumbent position. “Why has she gone away? ” 

“Eh! who knows?” replied Beltrami, shrugging 
his shoulders. “She didn't even leave a message for 
me, her promised husband. I think, myself, the 
empty pillar of yesterday startled her. She evidently 
thought everything was discovered, therefore has gone 
to Rome so that she Can appeal to the King in case of 
trouble.” 

“And what are you going to do, Marchese? ” 

“The best thing I can do under the circumstances. 
I have applied for, and obtained, leave of absence, so 
I will give this infernal tenor the antidote to-day, and 
start for Rome by the night train.” 

“ But when you arrive at Rome ? ” 

“I will see Madame Morone, and tell her that I 
removed the body of Pallanza from the pillar.” 

“The body, Beltrami ! You forget Pallanza is 
alive ! ” 

“ Of course he is, but I'm not going to tell her that. 
Cospetto ! if she discovered that this devil of a tenor 
was still in existence my power over her would be 
gone, and she would not marry me. Ecco ! ” 

“But as Pallanza will sing again, she is bound to 
find it out sooner or later.” 

“Eh ! no doubt, Signor Hugo ; but by the time she 
finds out I hope to be married. In that case it does 
not matter. Besides, I am going to make Pallanza 
promise not to sing anywhere for a month.” 

“ Suppose he refuses ? ” 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 163 

“ He won't refuse. Dame ! he owes me something 
for bringing him into existence again. ” 

“ And what about the doctor ? ” 

“He will soon be here," said Beltrami, glancing at 
his watch; “I expect him every minute.” 

“ Will he keep this affair quiet ? ” 

‘ ‘ Per Bacco ! I should think so, mon ami. I ascer- 
tained that before I told him anything. Not that I 
told him much, ma foi, no ! I invented a delightful 
story about Pallanza, which he swallowed as easily 
as I do this wine.” 

“And the story?” 

“I have not the time to tell it to you, but it is a 
beautiful story, worthy of Boccaccio. Oh, he will keep 
his mouth shut, I promise you, Hugo. He is a great 
friend of mine, and I never associate with those who 
talk of other people’s business.” 

“Have you the antidote, Marchese?” 

“Here it is,” said Beltrami, rising and taking 
the small bottle from his desk near the window; 
“and, ma foi ! frere i s the doctor coming up the 
street.” 

“ How fond you are of French,” I remarked, 
laughingly. “ Parisian ejeculations are never out of 
your mouth.” 

“ One must ejaculate in some language, Hugo, and 
I’ve been so often in Paris that I’ve got into the trick 
in some way.” 

“What about London?” 

“Your city of fogs 1 Eh 1 You know I cannot 


1 64 A CREATURE OR THE ; NIGHT. 

master your tongue, Signor Hugo. ■ Y ou are a beauti- 
ful mees ; I loove you - — Dio ! what a difficulty I had 
in learning those two sentences.” 

“ Which are perfectly useless. ” 

“I have not found them so. But here is Signor 
Avenza, the doctor I spoke of. Good-day, for the 
second time, my friend. Permit me to introduce Signor 
Hugo Cranston, an Englishman.” 

The doctor, a fat little man with a round smiling face 
and two twinkling black eyes, executed an elaborate 
bow, for which purpose he brought his feet smartly 
together in military fashion, and, having thus saluted 
me, rashly entered into a contest with the English 
language, which vanquished him at once. 

“ I spik Inglis, ” he said, mincingly. Then, with a 
gigantic effort, * ‘ Gif me your tongue ! Ah ! he is bad. 
Dis writing is your cure. Goot-day ! I vil taake a 
leetle valk wis you agin.” 

Signor Avenza had evidently learned these choice 
English phrases for the purposes of his profession. 

While this lesson in philology was going on the 
Marchese had opened the door leading into the room 
where Pallanza was concealed, and called to us to 
enter. Both the doctor and myself, obeying the sum-, 
mons, went through the bedroom, and soon found 
ourselves by the couch, whereon lay the still form of 
the young man, with that terrible death-in-life look 
on his white face. 

“See, Avenza, this is what I spoke about,” said 
Beltrami, holding up a small phial filled with a red 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 165 

liquid. “It is the antidote to the poison which*this 
Pallanza was foolish enough to take.” 

“And all through a love disappointment,” replied 
Avenza, lifting his eyes. “Ah! the poor young 
man ! ” 

I now began to see the kind of story Beltrami had 
told Avenza to account for the condition of Pallanza, 
and I must say it did credit to his powers of invention. 

“The amount of the poison he took was ten drops.” 
went on Beltrami, uncorking the bottle, “so it will 
require ten drops of this antidote to revive him, but 
when the life is once more in him I suppose he will 
be weak.” 

“Most certainly,” answered Avenza, nodding his 
head, “ since you say he has been like this for nearly 
a week. But proceed, Marchese, I am anxious to see 
the result of this antidote. ” 

Beltrami bent over the face of the unconscious man, 
and forced the teeth slightly apart with a spoon he 
held in his left hand. Having done this, he poised 
the bottle over the pale lips, and began to pour the 
red liquid drop by drop into the mouth. 

Both Avenza and myself bent forward eagerly to 
watch the operation, and held our breaths with anx- 
iety as the Marchese counted, slowly, — 

“ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, 
nine, ten ! ” 

The body made no movement, and Beltrami drew 
back, looking somewhat anxious. 

“ Dio ! I am afraid ten drops are not enough ! ” 


1 66 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 

“Wait,” said Avenza, taking his watch out of his 
pocket, and placing his fingers on the pulse of the 
seemingly-dead man. “You cannot expect this an- 
tidote to act at once.” 

The minutes passed slowly, and we all three re- 
mained with our eyes eagerly watching for some 
sign of life on that still face, while Avenza occasion- 
ally glanced at his chronometer. 

“ His pulse beats,” he said at length in alow voice, 
“faintly, it is true, but still it beats.” 

I heaved a sigh of relief, but Beltrami remained 
silently looking at the face of Pallanza with an anx- 
ious frown. 

“She cannot have given him fifteen,” he muttered 
under his breath, “ if $o, he would have been dead by 
this time ; but his pulse beats, so he is alive. ” 

He looked irresolutely at the phial in his hand, and 
then turned to Avenza, who Was still counting the 
feeble pulsation of the blood. 

“Doctor, I will give him three more. drops !” 

“Eh ! and why not? ” replied Avenza, raising his 
eye-brows ; “ as that is an antidote a few drops more 
or less cannot kill him after the dose of poison he has 
taken.” 

The Marchese made no further remark, but, bend- 
ing forward again, he held the phial over the half- 
open mouth for the second time. 

“One, two, three!” 

This time the effect was magical ; for after an in- 
terval of about two or three minutes, we saw a shud- 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 167 

der run through the rigid body, the left arm jerked 
upward in a spasmodic manner, the face flushed 
crimson with the rush of blood once more flowing 
freely through the arteries, and at last the heavy eye- 
lids lifted slowly. Pallanza gazed at us with a dazed, 
unseeing expression, then some tremendous force 
seemed to take possession of the body, for a spasm 
of pain passed over his face, a choking cry issued 
from his lips, and in a moment he was shrieking, 
writhing, twisting, rolling and plunging about the bed 
like a demoniac. All the nerves and muscles which 
had been dead and inert for so many days were now 
waking again to life, and the agony which racked 
his frame from head to foot must have been truly 
terrible. Both Beltrami and myself made a step for- 
ward to hold down this agonized body, but Avenza 
stopped us. 

“The antidote is doing its work,” he said rapidly; 
“ the dead body is renewing its life throughout every 
particle. Wait ! wait ! the paroxysm will soon pass 
away.” 

The doctor was right, for in a short time the writh- 
ing stopped, the cries grew fainter, and at last, with 
a heavy sigh, the young man sank back on the pil- 
lows in a state of exhaustion, on seeing which, both 
Beltrami and the doctor ran out of the room to get 
some brandy, leaving me alone with this new Laz- 
arus. During their absence he opened his eyes, to 
which the light of sanity had now returned, and 
spoke in a feeble voice, — 


x 68 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT \ 

“Where am I?” 

“With friends.” 

“And the Contessa ? ” 

“She is not here ! You are quite safe ! Hush ! 
do not speak, I beg of you.” 

Pallanza gave me a look of gratitude, then, closing 
his eyes, relapsed into silence. Avenza returned 
with a glass of weak brandy and water, which he 
gave to the young man in spoonfuls, 'while I went 
back into the sitting-room to see Beltrami, whom I 
found standing by the window with a frown on his 
face. 

“Ebbene?” he asked, turning .round. 

“ He is much better, and I think will soon be all 
right.” 

“ That’s a blessing. But what a nuisance ! I want 
to go to Rome to-night by the five o’clock train, but 
Avenza tells me that Pallanza will have to sleep for 
a few hours, so I won’t have an opportunity of speak- 
ing to him.” 

“Go with a light heart, my dear Beltrami ; I will 
arrange everything.” 

“You will?” 

“ Yes ; Pallanza can sleep in that room for an hour 
or two, then I will get a fiacre and take him to his 
lodgings. No one shall come near him but myself, 
and when he is quite sensible I will make him prom- 
ise all you want.” 

“Benel you are a good friend, my dear Hugo,” 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT . 1 69 

said the Marchese, in a tone of relief; “but do you 
think he will do what you ask ? ” 

“Most certainly ! I can force him to obey me.” 

“ How so ? ” 

“By threatening to tell Signorina Angello about 
his affair with Madame Morone. She knows noth- 
ing as yet, and Pallanza is afraid of her knowing. 
Witness the lie he told about that note at the Ezzelino, 
asking him to come to the Palazzo ! ” 

Beltrami, with his cynical estimate of the Con- 
tessa’s character, was not at all disturbed by this 
somewhat blunt speech, but laughed cheerfully. 

“Eh! Hugo. I think I will make you . Italian 
after all. Your plan is a good one, mon ami, so make 
Pallanza promise not to sing anywhere for a month, 
to leave Verona and keep quiet. By that time I will 
be .married to the Contessa, and all will be well.” 

“ I will arrange everything as you desire, Luigi.” 

“Excellent ! Then that trouble is off my mind.” 

At this moment the doctor entered, rubbing his fat 
hands together with an expression of glee. 

“Eh, he sleeps, this young man,” he said in a sat- 
isfied tone, “ he will sleep for one, two, three hours, 
then, if you like, Marchese, you can send him to his 
own house.” 

“ Signor Hugo will attend to all that, Avenza.” 

“ Bene ! Well, Marchese, a revederci I And you, 
Signor.” 

“ Wait a moment, Signor Avenza ; I am coming 

too.” 


170 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


“ Where are you going 1 , Hugo?” asked Beltrami, 
looking at me in some surprise, and nodding his head 
in the direction of Pallanza. I crossed over to him, 
and while Avenza was getting his hat, whispered in 
his ear, — 

“I am going to the Ezzelino to find out Pallanza s 
address, so as to know where to take him. ” 

“Ah! a good idea! I will wait here till you 
return.” 

I accompanied Signor Avenza to the Piazza Vittorio 
Emanuele, where we parted. I then went to the 
Teatro Ezzelino and found out Pallanza’s address from 
the stage-door keeper. While I was returning to Bel- 
trami's rooms I saw Peppino, and arranged with him 
to be at the Via Cartoni at seven o'clock that evening 
to take a sick gentleman away. At first Peppino 
objected, being, like all Italians, terribly afraid of 
disease, but I soon quieted his objections, and he 
promised to call as directed. 

On returning to Beltrami I found him packing up, 
and at five o'clock he took his departure for Rome, 
promising to write me immediately he arrived, and in 
return I assured him I would let him know everything 
as soon as I arranged matters with Pallanza. 

That young man slept until nearly seven, when he 
woke up and began to ask me questions as to where 
he was. I insisted upon his keeping quiet, telling him 
I was a doctor, and when Peppino arrived with his 
fiacre I wrapped him up in his cloak so as to hide his 
stage costume, and helped him downstairs to the car- 


A CREA TURK OR THE NIGHT. 


171 

riage. We soon arrived at his lodgings, where, dismiss- 
ing Peppino, I made Pallanza go to bed at once, and 
gave him a light supper, together with some weak 
brandy and water. After this he fell asleep, and I sat 
watching by his bed all night, wondering why I was 
such a fool as to do all this for a cynical man of the 
world like Beltrami, who would probably laugh at 
my good nature when all was over. Yet there was 
something about Luigi Beltrami which I liked ; and in 
spite of his affected cynicism and his extraordinarily 
loose notions of right and wrong, I believe that he had 
a sincere regard for me, which regard I considered not 
the least curious part of his whimsical nature, seeing 
that my character was the antithesis of his own in 
every way. Perhaps it was by the law of contrast, or 
illustrated inversely the saying that ‘ ‘ like draws to 
like ; ” but whatever was the reason, though we had 
nothing in common either in nationality or character, 
yet we were friends, and I leave this problem to be 
worked out by those who deny that such an enigma 
can exist. 


172 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


CHAPTER XV. 

FOUND. 

Guiseppe Pallanza slept soundly all night, while I took 
snatches of sleep in the arm-chair by his bedside. 
At nine o’clock in the morning he awoke, feeling much 
stronger, and after I had given him something to eat I 
prepared to go out. 

‘ ‘ Where are you going, Signor ? ” asked Pallanza in 
an anxious tone. 

* ■ I am going to send a doctor to see you, and then 
I am going to the Casa Angello.” 

‘ ‘ And for what reason ? ” 

“To bring Signoriria Bianca here !” 

“ Do you know the Signorina Bianca? ” 

“ Very well, Signor Pallanza. I am the Englishman 
of whorti you have no doubt heard her speak.” 

“Signor Hugo ! yes, I know,” muttered Guiseppe ; 
and then, after a pause, * ‘ I wish to speak to you, I 
wish to tell you something.” 

“ You shall tell me all shortly, but meanwhile lie 
down quietly, and when the doctor comes say nothing 
about the Palazzo Morone.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Pallanza, starting up in his bed, “ do 
you know that horrible place ? ” 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


173 

“ I know all ! But there, you are still weak,” I an- 
swered, forcing him to lie down. “When I return I 
will speak to you about some important matters.” 

“ Important ! — to me ? ” 

“Yes, and to the Contessa Morone.” 

“ Ah ! that terrible woman. ” 

“ Meanwhile, Signor Pallanza, say nothing about 
your visit to the palace or about Madame Morone.” 

“Not a word ! And you will bring Bianca to see 
me?” 

“ Yes ! I promise you.” 

With this hope, Pallanza was perfectly contented, 
and after instructing his landlady, who was in a state 
of great bewilderment at this sudden reappearance, to 
look after him, I went out to find Avenza. Fortu- 
nately he was well known in Verona, and I had no 
difficulty in discovering his house. He saw me at 
once, listened to my account of the way Pallanza had 
passed the night, and promised to see him without 
delay. Having thus carried out satisfactorily the first 
part of my mission, I departed to perform the second, 
which involved a somewhat embarrassing interview 
with Signorina Angello. 

On arriving at the house of the Maestro, I was re- 
ceived by Petronella, who threw up her hands with an 
appeal to the saints when she saw my haggard appear- 
ance and burst out into a volley of questions. 

“Eh! Signor Inglese. Is it not well with you? 
San Pietro ! how the wine does change a face. Here 
has the Maestro been asking for you every day 1 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


174 

‘ Well 1 Well! ' said I, ‘he has gone away like the 
lover of the piccola ! ' And it is true ! I see how 
you return. Eh ! Madonna, all men are bad. I 
have been married — I know." 

“You are wrong on this occasion, Petronella. I 
have not been at the wine, as you seem to think ! ” 

“But your face, Signor Inglese — like that of a sick 
person ! Gran dio 1 ” 

“Comes from sitting up all night by the bedside of 
Guiseppe Pallanza.” 

Petronella clapped her hands together with an ejacu- 
lation of delight 

“ He is found, then, the poor young man ! Ah ! it 
is well I did not waste a centesimo in masses ; and 
those priests are such thieves. Eh ! this news will be 
like wine to the piccola. Go in ! go in, Signor Inglese ! 
the Signorina is there, but the Maestro ! he is in bed, 
which is the best place for him, say I. ” 

After this breathless harangue Petronella ushered me 
into the sitting-room, where I found Bianca sitting by 
the wirfdow, contemplating a portrait of her lost lover. 
She arose when she saw me and came forward with 
an anxious look on her paleface, while the faithful but 
noisy domestic left the apartment. 

“ Well, Signorina, do you feel better ? ” 

“Yes, yes, Signore, much better; but you have 
news ! — news of Guiseppe." 

“The best of news, my poor child. Guiseppe is 
found, and is now at his lodgings.” 

The blood rushed into her hitherto pale cheeks, her 


A CREA TURE OE THE NIGHT. 


*75 

melancholy dark eyes sparkled with joy, and from a 
pallid, worn-looking girl she changed into a bright, joy- 
ful woman. It was a most wonderful transformation, 
as if a wan lily had suddenly blossomed under the 
wand of some fairy into a rich red rose. 

“ Signor Hugo ! Signor 1 Hugo 1 Ah, the good news ! 
Oh, how happy I am ! He is alive, then ? he is well J . 
Oh, say he is well, Signor Hugo ! ” 

“Signorina, he is still weak after his adventure, 
and at present he is in bed.” 

- ‘ Oh, let me go to him ! let me go at once 1 He 
may die, my poor Guiseppe ! ” 

“ No he will not die ; but put on your hat and I will 
take you to him, for you alone, Signorina, can nurse 
him back to health and strength. ” 

Bianca ran to put on her hat and tell the Maestro the 
good news, which evidently delighted the old man 
greatly, judging from the extraordinary chuckling 
sounds which shortly proceeded from his bedroom. 
Petronella at the doorway celebrated a noisy triumph 
on her own account, and at last amid the chucklings 
of the patriarch and the loud delight of his handmaiden, 
Bianca took her departure under my wing to visit the 
newly-found prodigal. 

She absolutely danced along the pavement, so 
exuberant was her delight at the good news, and I 
thought how easily I could damp this joy by telling 
her the true story of Guiseppe’s disappearance. It 
was a cruel thought, and I regretted it the moment 
after it flashed across my mind ; for it would have 


176 a creature of the might. 

been the wanton act of a boy crushing a butterfly to 
have destroyed the happy ignorance of this merry 
child, who, tripping gaily along by my side, put me in 
mind of the smiling Hebe of the Greeks, that charm- 
ing incarnation of joyous maidenhood. 

“Signore!” said Bianca, moderating her trans- 
ports, “you have not told me the reason of Gui- 
seppe’s absence. ” 

“ I am afraid there is very little to tell, Signorina ! 
He was lured to the Palazzo by an enemy, who kept 
him there until last night, when, luckily, I discovered 
where he was concealed and released him.” 

“ Ah, Signor Hugo, how can I thank you for your 
kindness ! Then my poor Guiseppe was hidden in 
that terrible room ? ” 

“He was Concealed near it, at all events,” I re- 
plied evasively. 

“ And the voice in the darkness, Signor? Oh, that 
cruel, cruel voice ! It. has haunted my dreams ever 
since ! ” 

“It whs nothing, Signorina; it was— it Was a 
friend of mine, who came to assist me to look for 
Guiseppe ! ” 

“Was it a signor or a Signora?” asked Bianca, 
who, evidently in her nervous agitation, had not dis- 
tinguished the feminine tones of the unknown, 

“ It was a signor ! a young signor whom I know ! ” 

u But he saw us in the darkness. Dio ! how ter- 
rible.” 

“No; he did not see us. He guessed we were 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 177 

there, as I told him we were going to look for 
Guiseppe, and he came to assist me.” 

Bianca was satisfied with this— I flatter myself— 
skilful explanation, and stopped asking questions, 
much to my relief. The number of lies I was forced 
to tell in connection with this affair was truly sur- 
prising, but as it was absolutely necessary to keep 
this poor child in ignorance of the true state of the 
case, I ventured to hope that the Recording Angel 
would treat them in the same way as he did the oath 
of my Uncle Toby, in Sterne’s delightful story. Italian 
intrigue, from the experience I had of it, was certainly 
very little to. my taste, as I was by no means a con- 
vert to the Jesuitical maxim that the end justifies the 
means, therefore it was with a thankful heart that I 
saw the whole intricate affair was nearly finished. 

By this time we had arrived at Pallanza’s lodgings, 
and I placed Bianca in an outer room with strict in- 
junctions that she was not to leave it until I called 
her. 

“Guiseppe is still weak, Signorina, and I must 
prepare him for your coming.” 

The fact is I wanted to carry out my promise to 
Beltrami, in asking Pallanza to live in retirement for 
a few months, and, until this was arranged, I was 
unwilling that he should see Bianca. The poor child 
fully believing what I said, promised to obey me 
faithfully in all things ; so leaving her in the outer 
room I went in to see Pallanza, whom I found eagerly 
expecting my arrival. 


12 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


178 

To my surprise, the young man was up and 
dressed, as Dr. Avenza, finding him So much better, 
had insisted on him leaving his bed, to remain in 
which, he declared, was weakening ; so I found 
Pallanza walking slowly to and fro to exercise his 
muscles, but on seeing me he came forward With an 
anxious look, — 

“ Is she here, Signor Hugo ? Has Bianca come ? ” 

“ She is in the next room, Signor! No, do not go 
to her. I wish to speak to you.” 

“lam at your Service, Signor Hugo. You have 
done so much for me that I can never repay you.” 

“Yes, you can by telling me how you went to the 
Palazzo Morone on that night.” 

“ I will tell all, Signore ! You have a right to 
know. But, Bianca?” 

“She knows nothing.” 

A look of relief came over the anxious face of the 
young man, and we both sat down to continue 
the conversation. 

“I met Madame Morone at Rome, Signore,” said 
Pallanza with some faint hesitation, “and we were 
together a great deal. I did not love her exactly, but 
she being a great lady flattered my pride. Of course, 
I should have remembered Bianca, but she was not 
beside me, and as to the Contessa ! ah, Signore Hugo, 
who can escape when a woman wills ? Madame 
Morone made me afraid at last. She is a tigress, 
that woman, and threatened to kill me if I left her for 
another. I saw how dangerous was her love, and 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT 


179 

telling her I was going to marry the Signorina 
Angello, left Rome for Verona. She followed me 
here and took me to the Palazzo Morone on Sunday, 
where she exhausted every means of making me 
give up Bianca* I should not tell you all this about 
a^ woman, Signor, but by her attempt to kill me she 
has released me from the laws of honour. Cospetto ! 
she is a mistress of the devil. Her rage is terrible, 
and on Sunday she implored, she wept, she raged, 
she threatened, but I was true to Bianca, and at last 
escaped from the palazzo intending never to see her 
again. On Monday night, however, I received a 
letter — — ” 

“From a dying friend?" I interrupted meaningly. 

“Eh! I said so in order to keep the affair from 
Bianca, as I knew if she heard about it I should be 
lost. No ! Signor Hugo. The letter was from the 
Contessa, saying that if I did not come by eleven 
o’clock to the room in the palazzo, in order to bid 
her farewell, she would go at once to the Signorina 
Angello and tell all. Per Bacco ! Signor, you may 
guess my fear at this message ; and I determined to 
go to the palazzo at any cost. The opera was long 
that night, and before the curtain descended it was 
past eleven. I was so afraid of the Contessa fulfil- 
ling her threat that I did not wait to change my 
costume, but throwing on my cloak over my dress 
of Faust, went at once to the palazzo. She was not 
in the room, and I had a horrible fear that I was too 
late, but I waited for some time, and she came* 


180 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 

We had another scene of tears, reproaches and rage, 
then ” 

“I can tell you the rest, Signor Pallanza. She 
gave you the poison in a cup of wine, and when you 
feli at her feet she shut you up in a hiding-place, 
from whence you were rescued.” 

“By you, Signor, by you?” 

“No ; by the Marchese Beltrami, who took you to 
his house, and after many days revived you with an 
antidote to the poison which he obtained with great 
difficulty. ” 

“But the Marchese! You, Signor, how did you 
see all this ? ” 

“Ah! that is a long story. I will tell it to you 
another time, but at present you must promise me 
something. ” 

“ Anything, Signor Hugo ! For you have saved 
my life from that terrible woman.” 

“She is indeed a terrible woman! and it is to 
escape her vengeance that I advise you not to sing 
for at least two months.” 

“But my engagement at the Ezzelino?” 

“ Pay forfeit-money. Say you are ill and cannot 
sing. Then return to Milan with the Signorina and 
marry her at once.” 

“ But the Contessa ? ” 

“ Has gone to Rome for the present ; but as soon 
as she finds out you are alive she will come after you ; 
so, if you are wise, Signor Pallanza, you will obtain 
some engagement out of Italy.” 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT, \ 181 

“ Basta, Signor ! your advice is good, and I will do 
what you ask. For two months I will not sing. I will 
pay the forfeit-money to the Ezzelino and return to 
Milan with Bianca. It is best so. Per Bacco ! what 
a demon I have escaped ! ” 

I felt greatly relieved that everything had thus been 
settled, so arose from my chair to take Pallanza to the 
Signorina, after which I intended to go straight to 
my hotel and write a letter to Beltrami, telling him of 
all that had taken place. 

“Come, Signor Pallanza, lean on me, and I will 
fake you to Bianca/’ 

“ Ah ! cara Bianca,” he cried joyfully, as I led him 
to the door; “ Bianca, Bianca, gioja della mia vita ! ” 

“Guiseppe ! ” 

She saw him standing with outstretched arms on 
the threshold of the room, and with a cry of joy flew 
towards him like a bird to its nest, and flung herself 
on his breast. 

As for me, I went out of the room and left them 
together. 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


182 


CHAPTER XVI. 

AN INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON. 

Well, at last I was back in Milan, much to my sat- 
isfaction, as after the strange adventures I had met 
with in Verona that city became positively hateful 
to me. Two months had elapsed since the affair of 
the Palazzo Morone had come to an end, and during 
that time two marriages in connection therewith had 
been celebrated — that of Beltrami with the Contessa 
Morone, at Rome ; and that of Guiseppe Pallanza 
with Signorina Bianca, at Milan. True to his promise, 
Guiseppe had forfeited his engagement at the Ezze- 
lino, much to the wrath of the impresario, and had 
rested quietly since at Milan, passing most of his time 
with Bianca, who was now in a state of high glee 
preparing for her marriage. 

It took place at the church of St. Stefano, in Milan, 
and out of consideration for the great age of the Maes- 
tro it was a very quiet affair, I being the only one pre- 
sent beyond the Angello household, but that was at 
the urgent request of both Bianca and her husband, 
who never forgot the services I had rendered them at 
Verona. 

. Thanks to my dexterity, Bianca never discovered 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 183 

the truth, and fully believed that Guiseppe had been 
kept a prisoner at the Palazzo Morone by some enemy 
who had lured him thither, by means of the letter 
purporting to come from a dying friend. At first, 
considering the weak way in which Guiseppe had 
acted, I did not consider that he deserved his good 
fortune in marrying such a charming girl as the 
Signorina, but during the time that preceded the 
marriage he was so devoted to her in every way, and 
apparently so remorseful for his amorous folly, that I 
quite forgave him his momentary infidelity. It was a 
very pretty wedding, the bride and bridegrobm mak- 
ing a handsome couple, and when the ceremony was 
ended Signor and Signora Pallanza went to spend the 
honeymoon of a few days at Monza, and I was left 
alone in Milan. 

Guiseppe had obtained an engagement at the Madrid 
Opera House, and on their return from Monza the 
young couple were to start almost immediately for 
Spain, leaving the Maestro under the tender care of 
Petronella. The old man’s health had been failing 
sadly of late, and I doubted very much whether 
Bianca would find him alive on her return to Italy, 
seeing how frail he was in every respect, 

Now that he was deprived of his right hand by the 
marriage of his granddaughter, the Maestro decided 
to give up teaching, at which decision I was pro- 
foundly sorry, as only having been with him a year 
I had still many things to learn in the art of vocalisa- 
tion. There was, unfortunately, no one else with 


1 84 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 

whom I could study the same system, for Paolo An- 
gello taught the old, pure Italian method, of which 
he was the last .exponent ; and I infinitely preferred 
the round sonorous notes which his training produced 
to the shouting, colourless style of present-day sing- 
ing, which curses the voice with a perpetual tremolo. 
The elaborate fioriture school of Pasta, Grisi, Ron- 
coni, and Malibran has almost entirely passed away, 
and in its place what have we in Italy ?— nothing but 
the present abominable fortissimo singing, without 
grace, sweetness, steadiness, or colour. The old 
Italian operas were composed not so much as stage 
performances as to show off the beauty, execution 
and brilliancy of the voice, while this new school 
of music-drama ; designed principally for dramatic 
effect, is interpreted by singers who rely but little on 
the perfection of the vocal organ, and pride themselves 
not so much on the individual colouring of a single 
number as on the general broad effect of the whole. 
Fortunately, however, by incessant work during my 
one year under Angello, I had acquired a pretty good 
idea of his system of vocalisation, and hoped, by 
cautious industry in following out his hard and fast 
rules, to perfect my singing in accordance with his 
severely pure method. 

Of the Marchese Beltrami and his wife I heard but 
little, save through the medium of the papers, as ex- 
cept one letter announcing his marriage with the Con- 
tessa, and thanking me for my attention to his inter- 
ests, this ungrateful Luigi had not written to me. I 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 185 

consoled myself with philosophical reflections on the 
hollowness of friendship, when one day, towards the 
end of July, I was astonished to receive a visit from 
the Marchese. 

Pallanza and his wife had returned to Milan, and 
were making preparations for their departure, which 
was now near at hand. I had just come back from 
a visit to the Maestro with whom they were staying, 
and was writing letters in my bedroom, when Bel- 
trami’s card was brought to me, upon which I ordered 
him to be shown into the room in which I was scrib- 
bling, so as to secure perfect privacy during our con- 
versation. 

In those days of poverty I lived like a cat on the 
tiles, up four flights of stairs just under the roof, and 
my one room served me for everything, — that is, as 
dining-room, reception-salon, and sleeping chamber. 
I took my meals at a sufficiently good restaurant near 
at hand, but otherwise the whole of my indoor life 
was bounded by the four walls of that small apart- 
ment, which contained an ingenious bed made to look 
like a sofa during the day, a wardrobe, a wash-stand, 
and a diminutive piano of German manufacture hired 
by myself. Yet, as Beranger sings, “ One is happy in a 
garret at twenty years of age, ” and I think the days 
spent in. that dingy Milanese eyry were among the 
most delightful of my life. I was young, enthusias- 
tic, not badly off for a poor man, and devoted to my 
art, so I used to strum chords on that small piano 
while I practised my voice, act operatic scenes in 


! 86 A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 

front of the looking glass, and dream impossible 
dreams of applausive multitudes, of recklessly-gen- » 
erous impresarios, and of a career like that of the 
kings of song. 

Then I had a view — a delightful view— of the red- 
roofed houses of Milan, seen from the window, with 
here and there a tall factory chimney, the slender 
tower of a church from whence sounded the jangling 
bells which used to irritate me, at least, every quarter 
of an hour, and just a glimpse of the white miracle of 
the great Duomo, rising like a fairy creation of milky 
lacework against the deeply blue sky. Even a vision 
of green trees I obtained by craning my head round 
the corner of the window, and when it was fine 
weather I looked at my roof-top view while enjoying 
a pipe, but when it rained — oh ! heavens, Milan was 
as dreary as London in a fog, and the blue skies of 
Italy became a fable of inventive minds. The intense 
heat changed to humid cold, and then I used to shut 
out this deceptive city of the Visconti by closing my 
window, and, retreating to the piano, practise exer- 
cises with a voice rendered, I am afraid, rather gruff 
by the chill terra-cotta floor and the damp atmosphere. 

It was in this poor but honest abode, as the novel- 
ists say, that I received Beltrami, who entered gaily 
in civilian dress with outstretched hands, looking ex- 
actly the same as when I had last seen him at Verona. 
Marriage evidently had not changed him, as he had 
the same subtle smile on his dark face, talked in the 
same vein of cynicism, and interlarded his conver- 


A CREA TURE OR THE NIGHT jgy 

sation with his usual number of French ejacula- 
tions. 

‘‘Eh! Hugo, mon ami,” shaking both my hands 
heartily, “you are astonished to see me 1 ” 

“Considering you have never written me a line 
since your marriage, Beltrami, I certainly am.” 

I suppose I spoke with a certain bitterness, for the 
Marchese shrugged his shoulders, with a slight flush 
reddening his cheeks, and sat down on the bed — I 
mean, seeing it was day-time — the sofa. 

“ Ma foi ! I am a newly-married man, Hugo ! ” he 
said, in an apologetic tone, “I have forgotten every- 
thing in the delightful society of that dear Contessa. 
But you are right to reproach me ; I ought to have 
written, only I am so terribly negligent.” 

“And fickle ; don't forget that trait of your charac- 
ter, Luigi. However, I’m glad to see you, fickle friend 
as you are. ” 

“Dame ! you don’t spare me. I have called on 
you for a purpose 1” 

“ That goes without saying. When one requires a 
friend one always knows where to find him. Well, 
Marchese, and in what way can I assist you?” 

“ I will tell you ! but I see you do not ask after my 
wife ? " 

“I trust Madame Beltrami is well ! ” I said stiffly, 
not feeling any particularly warm feeling towards that 
lady. 

“ Yes ! her health is good.” 

“And you are happy, Beltrami?” 


1 88 A CREATURE OF THE NIGH7 . 

“Tolerably ! But tell me, how is Pallanza and his 
wife ? ” 

“Oh, they live in Elysium, Marchese. At present 
they are in Milan, but leave next week for Madrid, 
where Pallanza is going to sing.” 

“ He’ll have to go by himself, then ! ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“That Madame, my very good wife, is hunting 
through Milan for his Elysium, with that famous 
bottle of poison in her pocket.” 

“Great heavens ! Is she going to try and poison 
Pallanza again ? ” 

“No! you remember the Latin maxim, ‘Non bis 
in idem.’ She is going to try the effect of the poison 
on his wife.” 

“And yet you can sit there calmly without making 
an attempt to save this innocent creature ! Beltrami, 
it is infamous ! ” 

I was walking up and down the room in a state of 
great excitement, for it seemed horrible and incompre- 
hensible to see the Marchese sitting there so calm and 
composed, when he knew that a reckless, dangerous 
woman like his wife was in Milan bent on murder. 

“Eh! Hugo, keep cool,” said Beltrami, quietly. 
“It is just this affair I have come to see you about. 
Sit down, mon ami, and I’ll tell you all about it.” 

“But every moment is of value ! ” 

“ No doubt, but as it will take madame some time 
to find out where Signor Pallanza is staying, I think 
we can safely talk for five minutes.” 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 189 

“Go on, then ! I am all impatience ! “ 

“ So I see ! Ebbene ! When I went to Rome I told 
the Contessa that I had taken away Pallanza’s body ; 
but of course I did not say he was alive, and swore 
that if she did not marry me I would tell everything 
to the authorities. The sequel you know — she .mar- 
ried me.” 

“A horrible contract,” I muttered savagely, looking 
at the whole affair from an English point of view. 

“I- think we argued that matter before,” said Bel- 
trami, coolly, “and, if I remember rightly, you did 
not agree with my reasons. However, it is too late 
now to blame me, seeing I have been married for 
nearly five weeks. We spent our honeymoon at Como 
— in fact, mon ami, we are spending it there still, only 
a perusal of yesterday’s Lombardia sent my excellent 
wife off to this city in search of Signora Pallanza. ” 

“ I do not understand.” 

“No? Then I will enlighten you. Madame, my 
wife, thought this devil of a tenor dead, and, as he 
has been keeping quiet all this time, she never for a 
moment suspected the truth. I saw an announce- 
ment of his marriage in the newspapers, but you may 
be sure I did not let the Marchesa see it. Everything 
was going beautifully, and we were a model couple — 
outwardly — when, as ill-luck would have it, this para- 
graph appeared in the paper.” 

Beltrami handed me a copy of La Lombardia , and 
pointed to a paragraph, which I read. It stated that 
Guiseppe Pallanza, the famous tenor, was going to sing 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


190 

at the Grand Opera House, Madrid, and would be 
accompanied to Spain by his wife, the granddaughter 
of Maestro Angello, the celebrated teacher of singing. 

“You can guess what a rage she was in,” said Bel- 
trami, when I had finished reading this fatal informa- 
tion. ‘ ‘ Diavolo ! she has a temper ; but, as I told you, 
I am quite a match for Madame, and held my own 
during this furious quarrel. She demanded an explana- 
tion, and I gave her one.” 

“What? you told her ” 

“Everything, mon ami. Your story, my story, 
Pallanza’s story — all about the antidote, the vault, the 
supper. Eh ! Hugo, she now knows as much as you 
or I. Mon Dieu, you should have seen her when I 
had finished ! ” 

“Why ? what did she do ? ” 

“ She smiled, that was all ; but it was the smile that 
alarmed me.” 

“For your own safety ? ” 

“Ma foi, no ! I told her she need not try the poi- 
son on me, as I had the antidote. In reply, she gave 
one of those wicked laughs that freeze your blood, and 
said that Signora Pallanza had not an antidote, and it 
would be the worse for hen ” 

“ Then she intends to poison the poor girl ? ” 

‘ ‘ I fancied so yesterday, and I was sure of it this 
morning, when I heard from my servants that the 
Marchesa Beltrami had gone to Milan. I knew what 
she was after, so followed by the next train, and came 
straight to you.” 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. igt 

“And what do you want me to do, Beltrami ?-” 

“Come with me at once to the Casa Angello, to 
warn Signora Pallanza ! I suppose she is still staying 
with the Maestro Angello ?” 

“Yes, until she goes to Spain with her husband. 
Let us go at once, Luigi. But, oh ! Beltrami, if we 
are too late ! ” 

“Do not be alarmed ! I have the antidote in my 
pocket. ” 


CHAPTER XV. 

NEMESIS. 

The Maestro had a very comfortable suite of apart- 
ments in Milan overlooking the Via Carlo Alberto, 
near the Piazza del Duomo, which were chosen by 
him on account of their situation, as he could sit at 
the window of his bedroom and amuse himself by 
gazing at the crowded street. This watching of the 
populace was his great delight, and when not giving 
a lesson he was generally stationed at his window, 
or else employed in reading II Seccolo , which he did 
in a curious fashion, by holding it close to his best- 
seeing eye. 

Of course, like all the entrances to these Milanese 
flats, the stairs were singularly damp, dark, and mal- 
odorous, and after running the gauntlet of a fat por- 


A CREATURE OR THE NIGHT. 


I92 

tanaia, who was devouring- a large dish of polenta in 
her glass house, we climbed up the humid steps, and 
speedily arrived at the second storey, where dwelt 
the Maestro when in Milan. To make up for the 
filth under our feet the ceilings over our heads were 
gorgeously painted with mythological figures ; and 
even at that moment I could not help recalling George 
Sands' remark anent the contrast between these two. 
However, we had no time to admire the clumsy Jupi- 
ter throwing fire-brand thunder-bolts,, for at this mo- 
ment Petronella, Who had seen lis through the dingy 
glass of- her own little sanctum, opened the door, and 
was about to burst into a torrent of greetings, when 
I stopped her to ask if the Signora Pallanza was at 
home. • ...■•■ f. 

“ Yes! yes! the Signora is in, but she is engaged- 
engaged in talking with a lady— Dio ! a great 
lady!'" - 

“Great heavens ! we may be too late ! " I muttered 
to Beltrami, who nodded his head silently. “ Petro- 
nella, speak low. This gentleman and myself came 
on an important errand to the Signora. What is the 
lady's name?" 

“Signor, she said she was the Marchesa Beltrami/' 
replied Petronella, her jolly face growing rather grave 
at all this mystery. 

“Is Signor Pallanza in ? ” 

“No, Signor Hugo ; he has gone to see an impre- 
sario.” 

“She is alone with Madame, let us go in at once," 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT 


*93 

whispered Beltrami, exhibiting the Brst signs of alarm 
I had ever beheld in him, 

“One mo*ment ! What about the Maestro, Petro- 
nella ? V : «h 

‘‘In his bedroom, Signor Hugo, at the window. 
Holy Saints ! what is wrong?” 

- “ Nothing ! nothing ! I will explain all shortly ; 

but meanwhile, Petronella, show us a place where 
we can see into the room where the Signora is talk- 
ing to the Marchesa, without being seen.” 

Beltrami nodded his head approvingly, for he saw 
my plan was to overhear the conversation* and only 
interrupt it should there be any danger to the Signora. 
Petronella was bursting with curiosity, but seeing, 
from the expression of our faces, that something im- 
portant was going on, she screwed up her mouth with 
a shrewd look, to assure us we could depend upon 
her, and, closing the outside door cautiously, led us 
into the room adjacent to that in which the conver- 
sation was taking place. Pointing to an archway, 
veiled by curtains, to intimate that there was nothing 
else but the drapery to impede our hearing, she re- 
tired on tiptoe, with a puzzled, serious look on her 
usually merry face. 

It seemed my fate to overhear mysterious conversa- 
tions through veiled archways, but this one was not 
used as an entrance between the two rooms, for, as I 
peered through the curtains, I saw in front of them a 
small square table, upon which was placed a lac- 
quered tray with glasses, and an oval straw-covered 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


194 

bottle of Chianti wine. I drew back for a moment, 
to see if Beltrami had noticed this obstacle to our sud- 
den entrance into the room ; but, instead of appear- 
ing dismayed, he had a grim, satisfied smile on his 
lips, as it he rather approved than otherwise of this 
table blocking up the doorway. Puzzled at this, I 
withdrew my eyes from his face, and looked again 
into the room beyond, where the Marchesa Beltrami 
was seated* talking to Bianca in what appeared to be 
a very friendly fashion. 

It must be remembered that Bianca knew nothing 
about the Contessa Morone’s intrigue with her hus- 
band, as both Guiseppe and myself had carefully kept 
all knowledge of the affair from her; and moreover, 
owing to her nervous agitation, she had not recog- 
nised the voice of the Marchesa when she spoke to 
us in the darkness of that fatal chamber at Verona. 
Consequently she was completely in ignorance of the 
real character of her visitor, and only beheld in her 
a lady who had called to see Signor Pallanza about 
some important business • this, as I afterwards learned, 
being the excuse she gave for hbr presence in the 
Casa Angello. It was truly terrible tb see these two 
women seated together in friendly discourse, the one 
so innocent of the danger she was in, the other so 
ruthless in her determination ’ tb revenge herself on 
her rival. The pure white dove was in the clutches 
of this relentless hawk, who, while watching her vic- 
tim so closely, was meditating as to the best means 
of carrying out her plans. 


A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT. 


1 95 

“ Oh, it is horrible 1 ” I murmured, turning pale, 
with emotion. 

“ Hush ! ” whispered Beltrami with a sinister look ; 
“she will fall into her own pit.” 

What did he mean by these strange words? I 
could not understand ; but I had no time nor desire 
to ask for an explanation, as the terrible drama being 
played out in the next room riveted my attention ; 
so, with a violent effort of self-repression, I resumed 
my post of observation, and listened to the conversa- 
tion between the two actresses in the tragedy. It 
was idle and frivolous, the conversation of two 
strangers who hhd nothing to talk about but the 
merest commonplace ; but this frivolity had for us a 
ghastly meaning ; this commonplace concealed a 
frightful intention. 

“And so, Signora Pallanza, you have never heard 
your husband mention my name ! ” 

“ No, Madame ! ” 

“It is strange,” said the Marchesa, smiling; “for 
in Rome I did what I could to help him in his pro- 
fession. Eh ! yes. I heard him singing Faust at the 
Apollo, and told all my friends to go and hear the 
New Mario/’ 

“That is what they call him here, Signora,” replied 
Bianca proudly ; “ but, indeed, it was kind of you to 
aid him. I wonder Guiseppe never spoke to me 
about you, for he never forgets a kindness. ” 

“ Ah ! I’m afraid some men have not much grati- 
tude,” said Madame Beltrami with a laugh. “ Never 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 


196 

mind, when Signor Pallanza comes in you will see he 
has not forgotten me.” 

“He could hardly do that, Madame,” answered 
Bianca, looking with honest admiration at the splen- 
did beauty of the woman before her. “ Had I seen 
you before I would always have remembered you ! 
But — it is so strange 1 .” 

“ What is strange, Signora?” 

“I do not recognise your face, and yet I seem to 
have heard your voice before.” 

“.Possibly! ” said the Marchesa indifferently.- i 
go about a good deal. ” 

“ Were you, ever in Verona? ” 

Madame Beltrami was staTtled for the moment at 
this apparently innocent question, but recovered her 
self-possession in a moment, and laughed gaily, in a 
rather forced fashion,— • /bro 

“ Yes, Signora ! I lived there a long time with 
my first husband, Count Giorgio Morone.” 

“ Morone ! ” cried Bianca, starting to her feet with 
a cry of alarm. ‘ ‘ Oh ! Madame/ do you know that 
palace ? ” 

The Marchesa saw that she had made a mistake 
by mentioning that fatal name, but with iron nerve 
opened a fan she had hanging to her girdle and 
fanned herself slowly. 

‘ ‘ Of course I do, ” she answered quietly ; r “ it be- 
longs to the family of my late husband, and is said 
to be haunted. ” 

Bianca shivered. 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


m 

# 

“So it is ! so it is ! ” she muttered in a fearful tone. 
“I have been in that room. Signor Hugo took me 
there.”' 

* * Signor Hugo J ” repeated the Marchesa reflectively. 

“ I think I have heard my husband speak of that 
gentleman. He is English, is he not ? ” ' 

“Yes, Madame. A great friend of my husband’s 1 . 

A terrible thing happened to Guiseppe at Verona ! 
Oh ! a terrible thing. And that room, that fearful 
room ! Dio ! I shall never forget it.” 

“You are trembling, Signora! You are ill,” cried 
Madame Beltrami, rising to her feet and crossing 
quickly to the table before the curtain behind which 
we were concealed; “ Let me give you some wine;” 

“ No, no J thank you. I am quite well ! ” said 
Bianca, going to the window and opening it. “It is - 
only the heat. The fresh air will do me good. ” 

“A glass of wine will be better,” replied the Mar- 
chesa, pouring out a glass of Chianti. 

I felt myself seized with a kind of vertigo at seeing 
this demon take from her breast a small bottle and 
empty the whole contents of it into the glass. I 
would have cried out only the voice of Bianca 
arrested me. 

“lam perfectly well, Madame ; but will you not 
take some wine yourself, since the day is so warm ? ” K 

“ Certainly, if you will drink with me! ” said 
Madame Beltrami, turning round with a Calm smile ; 

“ but indeed the wine will do you good, you seem so 
faint.” 


198 A creature of the night 

She poured out another glass of the Chianti for her- 
self, and was about to take the fatal drink to Bianca, 
when the latter called quickly from the window, — 

“Madame! quick! come here! Guiseppe is com- 
ing down the street ! ” 

Out of courtesy the Marchesa was forced to obey 
the call of her hostess, and went quickly to the win- 
dow, leaving the two wine-glasses close together on 
the table, the one on the left containing the poison 
destined for Bianca, the other on the right innocent 
of any drug, which she intended to drink herself. 

At this moment, while the two women were look- 
ing out of the window, I heard the voice of Beltrami, 
hoarse and broken, sound in my ear, — 

“Go to the door and tell the servant to detain Pal- 
lanza ! ” 

I looked at him in astonishment, for there was a 
frightful look of agitation in his pale face, and great 
drops of sweat were standing on his brow ; but he 
made an imperative gesture, and I obeyed him with- 
out a word. 

Petronella was in the kitchen, and I hurriedly told 
her to keep Pallanza at the door on some pretext or 
another, and stole quickly back to the room, where I 
found Beltrami leaning against the wall with a hag- 
gard look on his face. 

“ What is the matter ? ” I whispered quickly. “ Are 
you ill ? ” 

“ No, no ! Look 1— look !— see ! See what she 
is doing ! ” 


A CREATURE OF THE HIGHT. 


199 


I had only been gone a little over two minutes be- 
tween the time I had last looked in the room and the 
moment I resumed my post of observation, but dur- 
ing that period the Marchesa, evidently afraid of the 
entrance of Pallanza, had given Bianca the fatal wine, 
and the girl was drinking it at the window. Madame 
Beltrami herself, with rather a pale face, but a devil- 
ish look in her eyes, had just set down her glass upon 
the table, empty. A moment after Bianca, having 
drained the fatal draught to the dregs, came across to 
the table and placed her glass beside that of the Mar- 
chesa’s with a merry laugh. 

“ Lam glad you persuaded me to have the wine, 
Signora. It is so refreshing.” 

“ Yes, I think you will find it so, ” replied the Mar- 
chesa, with a strange smile. 

The whole of this terrible scene had passed so 
rapidly that I had no time to interfere. My tongue 
clove to the roof of my mouth, as I saw Bianca 
drink the Borgian wine ; yet with a mighty effort I was 
about to cry out, when Beltrami seized my arm in 
his powerful grasp, and dared me, with lurid eyes, to 
utter a sound. 

The Marchesa, having completed her devilish 
work, was about to go,, for I heard her say something 
to Bianca about seeing Pallanza on the stairs, , when 
suddenly we heard Guiseppe’s gay voice talking to 
Petronella, who strove to detain him; but with a 
merry laugh he brushed past her, and a moment 
afterwards was in. the room. Standing there in the 


200 A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT, 

grasp of Beltrami, hidden by the curtains, there 
seemed to be a silence lasting an eternity ; then we 
heard Guiseppe give a terrible cry of rage and fear, 
and despair,— 

“Giulietta ! you here ! Demon ! what are you 
doing?” 

Slow and soft, like the hiss of a snake, came the 
answer, — 

“ Doing to her what I did to you.” 

“ Poison ! Bianca ! ” 

The poor girl gave a terrible shriek of agony, and 
flung herself into the arms of her husband, while 
again there sounded the wicked laugh of the Marchesa. 

“ Ah ! you cannot save her now, traitor ! perjurer 
that you are ! she will die ! ” 

There was a sudden smash of glass, as Beltrami 
hurled himself through the archway and stood before 
his terrible wife. 

“ You lie, wretch ! Here is the antidote ! ” 

Bianca was lying unconscious in Guiseppe’s arms, 
and he, with a cry of joy, stretched out his hand for 
the phial which Beltrami, standing midway between 
his wife and the tenor, was holding. Suddenly, with 
a shriek of rage, the Marchesa sprang forward, and 
tearing the phial from his hand, hurled it through the 
open window into the street. 

“ No, no ! She shall die ! She shall die ! ” 

I shall never forget that supreme moment of 
anguish. Bianca lying pale as a lily in the arms of 
her agonized husband ; myself standing amid the 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT, 20 1 

ruins of the table in the archway ; the Marchesa erect, 
defiant, and snarling like an enraged tigress ; and 
only Beltrami calm — Beltrami standing cold and in- 
flexible, with folded arms and a sinister smile on his 
thin lips. The whole of this frightful drama had only 
lasted a few minutes, but the denouement, more 
terrible than anything that had gone before, had now 
arrived. 

“She shall die I”* repeated the Marchesa with 
devilish persistency. 

Beltrami gave a wild laugh that sounded like the 
mocking merriment of a fiend, — 

. “ Fool! you have thrown away your life ! ” 

Guiseppe looked up with sudden hope, and the 
Marchesa, with a cry of abject terror, reeled back witl> 
staring eyes and outstretched arms as the truth flashed 
across her mind. 

“ Life ! life ! oh ! devil that you are, you — you — 
have change d ' 

The fierce beauty of her face was suddenly distorted 
by a spasm of agony. She put her hands to her 
throat and tore open her dress, tore off the ruby neck- 
lace, the gems of which, flashed down to the floor 
like a. rain of blood, then with a yell of fear which 
had nothing human in its despair, she fell at our feet 
— dead. 

Yes, she had fallen into her own pit ; she had flung 
away her only chance of life in her desire to doom 
her rival,, and there amid the brilliant sunshine, amid 
the blood-red jewels scattered around her, with all her 


202 


A CREATURE OF THE JVIGHT. 


crimes, devilries, and wickedness on her head, lay 
the dead body of that Creature of the Night I had seen 
issue like a vampire from the old sepulchre to fulfil 
her evil destiny ; and over her with folded arms, 
sinister and cruel, towered the man who, as the in- 
strument of God, had sent her back to the hell from 
whence she had emerged. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A LAST WORD. 

It was at the Paris Opera House that I last saw Bel- 
trami, three years after the death of that terrible 
woman. Things had gone exceedingly well with me 
since my student life in Milan, and I can say without 
vanity that Signor Hugo Urbino holds a very good 
position among operatic artists of to-day. After 
leaving Angello I devoted another year to hard study, 
and was finally pronounced fit to appear before an 
Italian audience by my last Maestro. This, however, 
was only half the battle, for now, having gained com- 
plete control of my vocal powers, I had to take lessons 
in scena from Maestro Biagio, or, in other words, I 
had to study the art of acting. I elected to make my 
debut in the fine part of Renato in Verdi’s opera, “ Un 
Ballo in Maschera,” and having learned the music 
thoroughly, Biagio taught me how to render the 
character, dramatically speaking. This took some 


A CREA TURE OP THE NIGHT. 


20 3 


time, as every movement, every action, every gesture 
had to be studied ; but with perseverance I overcame 
all difficulties, and at length found myself capable of 
rendering the character of Renato in a sufficiently 
good style. In passing I may say that, as far as I 
have found, it is ridiculous to think that acting comes 
instinctively. No doubt a histrionic genius is able to 
give a gesture or strike an attitude during the emotion 
engendered by the performance of a part, but he must 
always hold himself well under control, and, broadly 
speaking, act the character, as he studied it, in cold 
blood. Otherwise, carried away by his powers, he 
would do things likely to upset the entire mechanism 
of the scene. I have sung the part of Renato man y 
times since my first appearance, and the critics are 
pleased to consider it a striking performance, but 
whatever touches on the spur of the moment I have 
introduced, the broad rendering of the character 
always remains precisely the same as taught to me by 
Maestro Biagio. 

Being thus in a position to sing and act the part, 
my greatest difficulties commenced, and I can safely 
.say that I never met a more unscrupulous set of 
scoundrels than these sixth-rate impresarios who go 
about Milan, like degraded Satans, seeking whom they 
may devour. English students, being popularly 
supposed to be made of money, are their favourite vic- 
tims, and they demand from these the sum of four 
or five hundred francs as the price of a scrittura, i. e . , 
an appearance on the stage. In a playful, ironical 


204 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. 


fashion they call this sum a present, I suppose after 
the fashion of Henry VIII. —I think it was that king 
— who dubbed his taxes ‘ ‘ Benevolences ; ” and if you 
do not make the impresario “a present, ” you certainly 
will not get an appearance in Italy. With this money 
they take a theatre in a small town and put on the 
opera in which you desire to sing, but even then it is 
doubtful whether the debut so dearly purchased will 
come off at all. 

The first impresario with whom I had to deal was a 
dingy individual, who, according to his own account, 
had brought out all the greatest singers of Europe for 
the last twenty years, and, having made him “ a 
present/’ of two hundred francs — he was a modest 
man and asked no more — it was arranged that I should 
make my debut at Como but on arriving there for re- 
hearsals I found that both the present and the impresario 
had vanished, like Macbeth’s witches, into thin air. 
Considerably disheartened by this sample of Italian 
honesty, I yet had sufficient faith to trust another 
gentleman in the same fashion, but he must have been 
a brother of the first impresario, for he too vanished. 
I now began to perceive that there were still 
brigands in Italy, but that having become civilised, 
they were either hotel-keepers or impresarios, and as 
my two unfortunate attempts to get a scrittura had 
ended in disaster, I was not very anxious to make 
any one a third “present.” 

However, it was no use turning back when within 
the sight of the goal, so I consulted Maestro Biagio, 


A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT 


205 

who kindly interested himself on my behalf, and 
introduced me to an honest impresario, who required 
the necessary present, but nevertheless fulfilled his 
promise of introducing me to the Italian public. I 
made my debut at Brescia with great success, and at 
the conclusion of the season, for which, of course, I 
did not receive a penny, I had plenty of offers from 
all parts of the Continent. To make a long story 
short, I sang everywhere I possibly could, and, having 
secured an excellent reputation, by an unexpected 
stroke of good fortune I was engaged to sing at the 
Paris Opera House two years after my debut. I 
think Dame Fortune was anxious to make reparation 
to Hugo Urbino for the misfortunes of Hugh Cranston, 
for, to my great delight, I was favourably received by 
the critical Parisians, and before the season ended was 
overwhelmed with offers of lucrative engagements. 

What with my good fortune and the constant excite- 
ment of the life of an artiste, I had almost forgotten 
the episode of Verona when I was reminded of it by 
the unexpected appearance of Luigi Beltrami, who 
came to my dressing-room one night at the conclusion 
of “II Barbiere,” in which I had been singing the part 
of Figaro. 

He was changed, this cynical Marchese, since I had 
last seen him, and changed for the better, as he had 
lost his former sinister air and looked much happier 
and brighter than formerly. Since our parting in 
Milan he had written me frequently, but of late his 
letters ceased, so I was somewhat puzzled how to 


206 A creature of the night 

account for this new air of cheerfulness. However, 
we shook hands heartily, being glad to see one another, 
and Beltrami, lighting one of his eternal cigarettes, sat 
down to wait until I was ready to leave the theatre. 

“Eh 1 Hugo,” he said, gaily blowing a cloud of 
smoke, “so things have gone well with you, mon 
ami ? ” 

“Exceedingly well, Beltrami, or you would not 
see me in this room.”. 

“Bene ! I congratulate you.” 

“ Many thanks, Marchese ; but you look as if life 
were agreeing with you.” 

Beltrami laughed, not with his former sardonic 
merriment, but with a hearty sense of enjoyment. 

“ Ma foi, yes ! I am married again I ” 

“Oh! I hope I can congratulate you this time,” 
I said with great significance. 

“The present Marchesa is an angel, mon ami. 
Dame ! I had enough of demons with the Contessa 
Morone.” 

“Well, she was punished for her sins.” 

“Eh! what would you? There is a God, mon 
ami, and He was wearied of the crimes of that Lu- 
crezia Borgia. But what about the poor girl she tried 
to poison ? ” 

“Signora Pallanza ! Oh, I hear she is in America 
with her husband. He has made a wonderful suc- 
cess in New York, and Bianca tells me they have two 
children, a boy and a girl.” 

“A new Mario and Patti, I suppose. Diavolo! 


A CREA TURE OF THE NIGHT. 207 

what a pity the old Maestro is not alive to train the 
voices of his great-grandchildren ! ” 

“Yes, he is dead, poor old man! I heard all 
about it in Vienna, and Petronella has gone to 
America to look after her beloved piccola. Well, 
Angello had a long life, but he was not immortal." 

“ Dame ! perhaps his system is immortal. It ought 
to be if your singing is an example.” 

“Ah, flatterer ! " 

“No; upon my word your Figaro was delightful. 
It is such a relief to hear a voice without that awful 
tremolo. But come, are you ready ? I want you to 
sup with me." 

“I will be delighted, Beltrami. Is the Marchesa 
in Paris ? " 

“ Eh ! no, not this time. I am here en gar f on for 
a few days. Madame is in Florence, where you must 
come and visit us. We are wonderfully happy. 
Dame ! who wouldn’t be with health, wealth, and 
an angel of a wife ? Ecco ! ” 

“You inherited the wealth of Madame Morone? ” 

‘ ‘ Ma foi ! yes. It was the only good turn she 
ever did me.” 

“Oh!” I cried, with a revulsion of feeling, “you 
are becoming cynical again.” 

“I always become cynical when I think of that 
demon.” 

“Beltrami,” I said after a pause, as we left 
the Opera House, “there is a question I have often 
wished to ask you.” 


208 A CREA TURK OF THE NIGHT. 

I felt the Marchese's arm tremble a little in mine, 
but he laughed in a nonchalant manner. 

“Eh ! ask what you will, mon ami.” 

“ Did you put your hand through the curtains and 
change the position of those glasses ? ” 

Beltrami stopped and looked at me steadily with a 
grave look in his bright eyes. 

“Hugo, mon ami,” he said slowly, “I neither 
deny nor affirm, what you say. Giulietta Morone 
was a demon who came into the world to work evil, 
and God, wearied of her crimes, sent her back to the 
hell from whence she came. I am not much given 
to religion, Hugo, as you know, but I believe in a 
God ; and whosoever He chose as an instrument to 
destroy that which He permitted to exist, rest assured 
that such a one will be held guiltless for executing 
the just decree of Heaven ! ” 

He ceased speaking, and we walked on in silence 
through the crowded streets under the dark-blue sum- 
mer sky. I understood perfectly what he meant, 
and whether it was right or wrong it is not for me to 
say, still I firmly believe that this man obeyed his 
impulse at that terrible time, not from any selfish 
motive, but because he saw clearly that in removing 
this frightful creature from the world he was doing a 
service to the humanity upon which she preyed. 

All the same, I do not intend to visit the Marchese 
Beltrami at his Florentine palazzo. 


FINIS. 


A CREATURE OE THE 

NIGHT 

AN ITALIAN ENIGMA 


BY 

FERGUS HUME 

AUTHOR OF 

“THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB,” “MADAME MIDAS,” 
“MISS MEPHISTOPHEI.ES,” “MONSIEUR JUDAS” 


Yea, out of the womb of the night 
For evil a rod, 

With vampire wings plumed for a flight 
It cometh abroad, 

The mission to curse and to blight 
Permitted by God. 


NEW YORK 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

I50 WORTH ST., COR. MISSION PLACE 


























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